


Justice Well Served

by Screwyy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Briefly introduced side characters you won’t really care about die, Can you slowburn a friendship cause I think I Did That, Dream is a criminal and bounty hunter, Enemies to Friends, Everyone else gets plot armor, Everyone gets some backstory just wait for it, Everyone gets some badass. As a Treat, Gen, George is colorblind, George’s is first, Graphic Violence, I gave them all individual weapon choices, I supposed its up for interpretation rn, I was planning on keeping this completely platonic, Lotta sword combat, Medieval Minecraft world, Optimistic Bad being wholesome but could definitly stab you if he wanted to, Realistic Minecraft, Realistic Minecraft with soft adjustements, Sapnap and fire metaphors, They all slowly warm up to eachother, They each get their own arc, Unimportant unnamed people die, aka medieval times but with enchantments and mobs, but I think Dream develops a small crush towards chapter 10, even tho i didnt mean to it just happened a bit, meaning they get stabbed sometimes, rn being up to chapter 10, so tags will be edited accordingly once that changes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Screwyy/pseuds/Screwyy
Summary: Dream has been fleeing his three persistant hunters for two months now. Life hasn’t been the same ever since the King demanded his head, and the more time goes on, the more he sees his future crumble. Maybe he never should have crossed him in the first place.George and his two best friends have been sent on a neckbreaking mission to catch the most dangerous criminal in the kingdom of Rua. Guided by compasses and orders from the King, they’re determined to catch up very, very soon.((A strong inspiration for this work was the fanfiction Green & Gold!! The world works a little differently, but I needed more of that kind of fanfic, so I wrote more. Enjoy!))POVs: George, Dream, Sapnap
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Darryl Noveschosch, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Dream & Georgenotfound & Sapnap & Badboyhalo, GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Georgenotfound & Sapnap & Badboyhalo, a tiny twinge of, basicly, but its up for interpretation, turns into - Relationship
Comments: 135
Kudos: 304





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> NOTATIONS:  
> "-"  
> (perspective shift, but no timeskip.)  
> "---"  
> (timeskip, potentially perspective shift.)  
> "
> 
> "  
> (soft timeskip. Could be 30 minutes, could be 5 hours.)
> 
> Each arc has a tarot card assigned to it for ~symbolism~!

_ Tarot - The Tower _

_ This card usually depicts a tower that’s coming crashing down, burning and crumbling. Historically, this card depicts the rebellion against the rich and powerful, but from their perspective; It tells of losing everything you’ve ever built, your once closest turning against you, and that you will be powerless to stop it. It’s the most feared card in the entire deck.  _

_ While it does not signal rebirth, the destruction of anything will always make way for something new to grow. Ultimately, the rebellion was inevitable, and will lead to a brighter day. _

  
  


\---

The sun beams down from the horizon, wilting the grass underneath. Three figures, armored in iron with swords sheathed away, shields on their backs and travel packs with them, walk over the open fields.

One of them stops, and so do the other two. He looks out to the horizon, shielding his eyes from the sun.

He sighs. “Desert. Like I thought.”

George groans behind him. “Are you sure, Sap? Come on. What does he want in a desert?”

Sapnap fishes a compass out of one of his pockets. “Definitly headed for the desert.”

Bad shrugs, already setting off again. “We might be slower there, but so will he! Maybe he’ll run out of water.”

George and Sapnap follow, the latter taking the lead once more. George sighs. “I hope so…”

They’d been on his trail for two. Months.

Two months spent chasing one of the most dangerous and deranged criminals all across the kingdom, a masked man called Dream.

They’ve learned a lot of valuable lessens from near-death experiences, like: Don’t split the group. Always stay together. Always guard your things. Never try fighting him alone.

They had to learn that one the hard way.

He was supposed to be the hunted, but apparently, the guy is completely fearless of the group sent to hunt him down. He’d ambushed them more than once. Like a maniac. 

George blinks against the sun, seeing the dry grass start to turn to sand. He doesn’t notice how he draws ahead again, and Sapnap quickens his pace.

The young, active soldier is the one officially in charge of this mission, and George draws back to give him the lead again. It’s his first one to lead, and despite how well they know eachother, he remains protective of his leader-status. Determined to prove himself to their superior, a general named Zen, who thought Sapnap was best to test his leadership-abilities on his group of friends first.

The general didn’t think much of hard, authoritarian leadership anyway. Groups work best, he said. And that’s why it’s them three, all relatively recently made soldiers, chasing Dream like he were the sun on the horizon. Hard to see and always three steps ahead.

Sand begins to fill their boots and they have to ration their water while they climb over the sand slopes. Deserts made you irrationally thirsty, so if they wanted to last, they’d have to control their water intake.

Despite keeping their heads turning, there’s no sign of him. Sapnap keeps his compass out. Straight foreward, and they continue their rushed climb. George sighs. What did he do now? Fly? Jump from cactus to cactus? How is he this fast through a damn desert?

The answer interrupts his thoughts rather literally as he suddenly stumbles to a stop. He looks down. The other two stop, finally, looking back to see what held him up.

Looking to the left and right, he confirms his theory. A sandstone path, barely visible among the sand, one direction vaguely sloping towards where Dream must be right now.

Bad steps to him, about to open his mouth and ask him why they stopped, until he steps onto the stone as well, and his eyes widen.

They hurry down the path, swords drawn, trying not to run and exhaust their energy. It could be soon, it could be miles away, but no doubt there must be a village somewhere up ahead.

And if there’s a village up ahead, that’s where Dream will want to be.

\---

Dream pulls his hood well over his face as he approaches the buildings, his dark green cloak hiding him well. People mill about, a good few casting him glances. They probably don’t see foreigners often. He heads straight to the marketplace, where four pitiful stands display the most simple things: Waterskins, cactus dye and cactus pastries (which he heard are tastier than they sound), arrows, pale sticks, he even spots a wildly overpriced iron dagger. 

Life used to be great, really. He’d complete a mission, spend a good month doing whatever he wants, attending some tournaments to show off, and then he’d do the next. Always on time, always with ease. Sometimes people would challenge to duel him, and sometimes they were people like him. Some of them were pretty good. Nobody’s truly kept him beat, though. And he’s won every tournament thus far.

And then the King decided Dream had to suffer and die. He’s rising too quickly, winning too much. Threats… certainly didn’t stop him, so he sent the three most annoying and persistent hunters after him.

He doesn’t regret crossing him yet, though. It was all only a matter of time anyway.

People weren’t usually able to stand in his way. They either didn’t dare, could be intimidated not to, or he struck them down if necessary. Whichever was easiest. 

He thought they were too young, too easy, at first. That the King of Rua had underestimaed him. Almost cost him his life when he tried taking all three on at once, but dammit they’re a lot better than they look. He can take one with ease. Maybe two, if he’s lucky, if he focuses. Not all three though. Not without some... help.

He wordlessly buys two waterskins. The church stands abandoned against the pale sky. Better luck next time.

He eyes the rest of the market. The iron dagger belongs to a man with decent clothing, but nothing Dream would normally consider worth his time. He  _ is _ running low on resources, though.

He mulls over his options. Causing trouble would take some time, and could get him hurt, if he’s too reckless about it. But his pursuers, as determined as they are, have stopped to help with the chaos he left behind without fail so far.

He walks up to the marketstand. Would he even have emeralds? Probably not. Just some gold pebbles, maybe a gold bar. He looks back to where he came from, and knew he had to decide now.

He throws his hood back and snatches the gold.

The man yells out about a theif, wide-eyed, and Dream pretends to begin to run. Three people are after him, armed with sandstone weaponry. Easy.

He swirls around on his heel, drawing his sword in one smooth motion and taking out the first attacker, the blue blade going straight through his chest. The other two stagger back at the sight in shock.

He stems his foot against the body and pulls the blade out. At least one death, at least one injured. That’d be enough to hold them back. He swoops in, setting a deep gash over the second attacker’s stomach, disarming and kicking in the knee of the third. That’ll do.

He looks up to find the marketplace almost completely empty, although some people are trying to hide painfully obviously. Another two men come out of one of the houses, armed with stone, but he doesn’t have time for them.

He raises his sword, stopping them for a moment. “I’m not interested in killing any more of you.”

They both stop, weary, terror clear in their eyes. And bravery. They’d die here, to protect the people of the village that had no way of defending themselves. 

Somewhere deep in his chest, he feels respect for them, standing between his diamond sword and the scattered people.

His voice is low, but confident. “But know that my name is Dream, and I could very well finish the job if I wanted to. However, someone has to live to tell the tale, don’t they?”

He tips his head to the side at them, and they wordlessly stare back at his mask, swords still drawn. He turns with a flourish of his cloak and begins to dissapear into the blinding light.

He just has to get to the next big city, and there he’ll finally lose those persistent young soldiers.

And finally get himself a well-deserved drink.

\---

They ran, they rushed, and still they’re too late. 

The people of the village eye them with fear in their eyes, some still hiding. George runs up to the marketplace, spotting two men trying to help a bleeding woman up.

“Did… did a masked man do this?”

They turn to him with a bit of shock, and one of them grabs his sword before answering. Age lines his face. “Yes. He called himself… Dream?”

George mutters an “of course” to himself before dropping his iron sword to the floor and showing his open palms. “We’re the ones hunting him down. We can help you.”

The man turns away and back to the fallen fighter, bleeding out red onto the sand. His voice is bitter. “Just go hunt him already then, dammit. We’ll manage.”

George turns to see Sapnap and Bad regrouping, and he joins them. Sapnap gives him a slightly bitter look, but it’s mostly lost on him.

He feels anger - or is it thirst? - burn his insides and his throat. These people hadn’t done anything. They weren’t part of the stupid criminal competition. They didn’t care about it. Nobody would ever ask them about it, and he  _ still _ decides to leave his bloody mark here.

George sheathes his sword away. He could stay, patch up the wounded young woman. Give the fallen a proper burial. He gulps back the bitter taste in his mouth, and forces himself to turn away from them. The man was right, and he knew it. Besides, Dream usually left more chaos behind than this.

“Let’s go.”

\---

He passes two more villages before he reaches the city of Ragnorak. Not neutral grounds by any means. In fact, it was owned - unofficially, of course - by one of his rivals. Techno, who claims himself to be the king of the criminal underworld. 

He just hopes nobody will care that he’s passing through.

The city soon begins to loom in the distance. If he’s correct, then he should have a few days time between him and his loyal hunters, giving him enough time to run an errand or two, take a break, and then dissapear into the sunset.

The sharp outlines of high walls, spiked towers and precise buildings begin to turn into a solid view of the city gates. The gates are open during the day, but two guards stand at each side, eyeing the trickle of people that pass through constantly.

The path he’d been following has merged into one of the kingdom’s main trade routes, and he’d long pulled his hood over his face to hide. Maybe he’s lucky, and Techno’s clan will be busy taking their time as well.

Few survived a fight with him, after all. He just hopes that will be enough to keep them at a distance.

He’d find a way. Snake his way through, how he usually does-

-his thoughts stop. There they are. 

He quickly turns his eyes back to the ground and ducks behind a somewhat larger trading carriage. How the hell are they here? Did they not stop at the villages?

He curses to himself quietly. Change of plan, then. Undoubtedly, he sees the three hunters making their merry way after him through the legs of a camel.

He steps through the city gates and into the mumble of people, old and young, with bags, carriages, horses, donkeys, cats, dogs and llamas and anything else you can imagine. It’s easy to flow with the crowd, letting it take him to the center of the city.

He doesn’t see the eyes staring at him from the shadows, but he’s aware that they must be there. Following him, watching him. They wouldn’t know who he is just yet, but taking off his mask is out of the question, and they’d recognize him with it from a mile away.

He eyes out the central tavern, and steps inside, cloak still over his face. The tavern quietens for a brief moment at the interruption. They don’t have newcomers often. He’s stepping into the wasps’ nest, but what choice does he have? The whole place is crawling with them. Interrupting them as an intruder when his hunters find him will be much worse than announcing his visit from the start. This way he at least has a chance.

He starts to walk towards the bar. Techno’s signature mark is burned onto one of the walls unmistakably.

A young woman stands up aggressively and blocks his path, eyes narrowed and suspicious. One of her hands is already on the handle of a dagger.

“And who do  _ you _ think you are?”

Here goes nothing. He pulls his hood back, tipping his head to the side curiously, confidently. “Just passing through. Nothing else.” The tavern goes dead quiet, and he tries not to let his pride show. They know him.

She raises a brow, wholly unphased by the tense atmosphere. “Passing through, huh? Since when do you have permission to do that,  _ Dream? _ ”

He forces himself to stay still. Another two people, undoubtedly loyal to Techno, have stood up as well, staring him down. 

He gives a low laugh. “Now, I don’t want any bloodbaths.” He leans in a little despite his hammering heart, voice calm and low. “If I wanted to bother you, I wouldn’t come marching in here.”

He lets everything sink in for a moment before turning around. The two are half-blocking his path, but clearly awaiting an order from their leader.

She stares two burning points into the back of his head as he leaves.

He steps outside into the cool air, hood already deep over his face.

“There he is!”

Oh for fuck’s sake.

He catches the gaze of his three pursuers immedietly, and turns into the shadowed corners of the city. He’s in _ his _ element, now.

Pushing through narrow, dark streets, overshadowed by the looming buildings, cutting corners whenever he can, he runs through the city. The eyes from the shadows follow him curiously.

He runs down another path, spotting a rough house-side that he begins to scale, his hunters close behind. He dodges an arrow that barely passes his head before swinging himself onto the flat roof.

He runs, jumping from ledge to ledge and ignoring the sickening heights below his feet. He hears them close behind, and changes his course.

“George, hurry! We’ve almost got him cornered!”

“Bad, I can’t! You have to get him from both sides-”

“George! Stop giving out orders when I’m-”

Sapnap is interrupted as they watch Dream jump an almost impossibly long distance, before picking up the pace, their cornering-plan forgotten.

He hears them jump, one, two-

Two?

He jumps another small gap before glancing back to see George stuck on the first roof, having skidded to a halt before the drop. That means he’s alone. Good.

The other two call out to him to make the jump, but he remains in place. Dream begins to draw a wide curve as George stands his ground, trying to pull himself together.

With Sapnap and Bad still a few roofs behind, George screams as Dream charges him alone on the roof. His diamond sword clashes against a shield before he swings again, leaving a gash on his left arm.

Snapped to his senses but still out-fought, George manages to block two more sword hits with his own weapon before Dream gets the diamond blade deep into his leg. George sputters, and Dream watches the horror on his face. For a brief second he contemplates getting rid of him-

He turns barely in time to block Sapnap’s axe, hammering down on his sword with the rage of a warrior. Bad charges in with his own shortsword, and Dream turns and runs.

Despite his attempts to outrun them, the city roofs aren’t exactly made for this kind of chase, and Dream soon finds himself near roofs too spiked and high to jump to. He swings himself down, his two hunters hot on his heels.

The narrow streets almost allow him to slip away, but they’re as unfamiliar to him as they are to his chasers. 

As Bad calls out to Sapnap to slow down, he immedietly turns and unsheathes his sword.

Sapnap is surprised for only a moment, but his anger makes him blindly charge into the dark. 

Dream gets two more hits on him, weakening him, before charging in fully. It’s so easy he almost laughs. He expected better.

His sword slashes at his side, and he can see Sapnap stumble back- before Bad comes flying out of the darkness.

Preoccupied with a new fight, he feels himself beginning to tire. From the desert to the chase to the fighting, he really doesn’t want to take them both at once right now.

Bad is weaker physically, perhaps, but faster, more coordinated. He doesn’t quite fight like your average footsoldier, and Dream would’ve found it more interesting if he weren’t fighting him to the death right now.

Metal clashes, again and again, but he finally spots a weakness and slashes at Bad’s shoulder… only to get a long cut down his own chest. His arms ache and blood starts to run down his torso. He grits his teeth, and keeps fighting.

He tries to be faster, but it only makes him sloppier, and Bad gets another slash at his left arm. Not to mention Sapnap’s bruised him twice with that stupid axe. 

Barely he manages to set a deep gash into Bad’s right arm, making him drop his weapon. With a feeling of victory - and a glance to check and see that Sapnap is barely standing - he kicks Bad down to the cold stone ground. He raises his sword. Finally. After all those weeks, after all those chases and all that pain.

He looks down on him trying to squirm, trying to grab his shortsword with his left hand. Sapnap shoots up, but Dream punches him down and away with ease.

“Aww. You’re all pretty good for some footsoliders, I’ll give you that. Especially since  _ you _ don’t fight like one.”

Bad only glares up at him angrily.

“Any last-”

He stops as an arrow whizzes closely past his face and lodges itself into the wood wall next to him.

He curses himself for having to be dramatic, and splits. The shadows of the city seem to rise against the intruder, once only eyes now bearing swords and daggers and shields. Dream distantly spots the woman from the tavern, a diamond dagger in each hand.

He runs, his legs screaming from exhaustion. The shadows only continue to pour out of the dark, armed and hellbent for his head. So much for his break.

He skids to a halt at a dead end.

Oh no.

\---

Bad forces himself upwards, ignoring the blood running down his arm. 

“Sap? You okay?”

“Just lightheaded.”

Bad finally stands, using his left hand to sheathe his shortsword away and turn to Sapnap, leaning against a wall.

Sapnap gulps down his wounded pride, pale and shivering, clutching his side. “Bad… I’m such an idiot.”

“That you are. Lean on me, stop talking, and we have to find someone to go help George.”

\---

His leg burns.

It needs to be stitched, he knows that much. He presses his hand to the oozing wound, clenching his teeth. It’s the only thing he can do. More blood runs down his left arm. Not as dire, but it definitly still burns.

He takes shaky breaths. Don’t panic. They’ll come get you. He’s just stuck, on this roof, bleeding out, with no way to stitch himself up or do anything other than sit here and wait for death or rescue. Whichever comes first.

He could take his hand away, and risk bleeding out even further, but wrap his shirt around it like a bandage. He groans into the burning pain. He knows he has to. It’s better than nothing.

Gritting his teeth, he quickly takes his hand away, stripping off his shirt and trying to get his hands to stop shaking. He presses it to the wound, pressing his eyes shut at the pain. Not the most sanitary, but it’s better than bleeding out. Why can’t Sapnap and Bad just hurry up already?

He hisses through his teeth at a new wave of pain. He’s near the ledge, leaning on a two inch tall, sandstone railing. He looks over. The drop is steep, definitly enough to make him dizzy, but it’s one of the lower buildings in town. The house must be older, because plenty of ledges and decorative carvings provide foothold. No wonder Dream chose this one to climb up.

It’s three stories up. He can’t hear anything, not from Bad or Sapnap, and if he’s out of luck then he might have hurt them, worse, killed them. He realizes that the dizziness might be from more than just the heights. 

George turns back to his leg, and starts working on the impossible.

He wraps the already bloodied shirt around his leg, doing his best to wrap it as tight as possible and get a good knot in. He lets out a surprised cry of pain as he twists it weirdly, instinctively putting his hand in his mouth and biting down softly to distract himself from it. It hurts. Fuck, it hurts. When he gets Dream between his fingers…!

He works on the bandage again, ignoring his vision blurring. He blinks, two hot streaks running down his face. Great. And now he’s losing water, too. 

He finishes his bandage, blood readily soaking into it already. He doesn’t have much time.

He closes his eyes. They could be hurt. Dead. Maybe Dream is wounded, just waiting for someone to strike him down. Maybe the others lost him, or had to flee the city. He tries to think of them for a moment longer before opening his eyes and starting to move.

He clutches the ledge tightly, his head feeling light as a feather. He really doesn’t have much time, but better die trying than die waiting for rescue.

With all his might, he swings his good leg over the side of the building, ignoring his frantic heartbeat. Stupid heights. Stupid tall buildings. Stupid acrobatic Dream.

With a last shot of adrenaline he didn’t know he still had, he swings his bad leg over, gritting his teeth at the pain.

His hands shake as he makes his way down. Pain tears into him with every step, and fear slams into him every time he has to lose his footing to move downwards. This is insane. He’s never going to make it. It’s so much higher than he thought it would be, he’s going to die here, he’s going to fall and break his neck, he-

His feet touch the ground. He almost collapses from relief.

Trailing his bad leg behind him, he slowly starts to limp towards one of the busier streets. His leg buckles and he leans onto a stone wall. The world was starting to blur again. Come on, George. Just a few more steps. Someone has to help. Anyone.

He clutches his fists, knuckles turning a pale white.

\---

The walls are newer here, steep, smooth. He tries to climb up, but an arrow that slams into his shoulder tells him to stop trying. 

He falls back down, turning around in hopes of running back, but he’s surrounded. He can see at least 3 arrows pointed at him from the rooftops nearby. The woman stands in his way with both her diamond daggers, flanked left and right by more of Techno’s clan, armed to the teeth.

He does his best to ignore the arrow in his shoulder. “I told you I wouldn’t bother you.”

“You should know better than to wander into the criminal king’s territory like that.” She spits, and Dream can feel anger at her phrasing. Techno couldn’t be further from the King of Rua.

In fact, Techno somehow manages to be even more annoying.

“Leave me be, and nobody has to get hurt.”

She breaks out into laughter. “Hurt? I think  _ you _ don’t know when to shut up.”

Dream grits his teeth, and she takes his silence in with a satisfied grin. 

“That being said, killing you would be a waste.”

Dream lifts his head a little, otherwise saying nothing.

“What’s the matter? No snarky response?” She barks another laugh. “Come on.”

Dream takes a step back as one of the rogues steps forward. No…

He can hear the woman tease him again, but he’s too focused on the metal ring they’re about to force on him to care. It gives off purple sparks. A binding enchantment, if he had to guess. 

He grips his sword tightly. Maybe it’s better to just die here.

He’s being irrational, he knows it. But his pride would know nothing worse than having to work for Techno.

He has an untested strategy in mind, but…

Well. Maybe trying and dying is better than being one of Techno’s dogs. 

With a start, he whizzes past the metal ring and towards the woman. He intended to use this on his hunters, but instead he splashes the murky potion right into the woman’s face.

She screams as the two guards around her split as well, and he runs back into the streets. He has to focus this time. He can’t escape another dead end. He runs, runs, runs-

He slows down. He can’t hear them anymore. His eyes dart around the dark, the sun already set below the horizon. The city gates are closed by now, so looks like he’ll be spending the night in the friendly new neighbourhood he just found.

He drags his feet across the stone, still paranoid, still gazing around.

A sound startles him, a huff, and his hand darts to his sword before he finishes a thought. He rounds the corner carefully, everything on edge, ready to slice anybody in half-

He spots the dark figure slumped against one of the walls, leg bandaged with a piece of clothing. He lowers his sword. Slowly, his eyes follow the blood trail along the street, and up the sandstone building.

Oh.

“Holy shit.” He breathes, and George jolts up at the voice.

He had rammed his sword straight through his leg. Watched the blue peek out on the other side. What the fuck?

For a moment, they both stare eachother down. 

George is clearly clinging to the last of his life, and clearly knows that he’s no match for Dream. Still, he can see him pull himself together, and push himself to stand. He sways a bit in place, and manages to take another, two, three steps. Dream can see that he’s shaking.

He must’ve stitched it closed at the top somehow, if he had that in his travel pack. Even then, the chances of ripping the wound open on that climb are extremely high. 

He watches, mouth slightly agape, as George takes another two very stubborn steps.

“How are you alive?!”

George jolts a bit again, whincing from pain. “I’m bandaged, see?”

“And stitched, obviously. What the hell. Who trained you guys?!”

“Not stitched. Just bandaged.”

He stares at him, but Geroge’s face is genuine. 

“There’s no way you’re not stitched!”   
  


“The fuck am I supposed to stitch myself with, these… rocks?!”

Despite himself, Dream snorts. 

“Yeahyeah, you laugh, we’ll see how it is when Bad and Sap get here!”

“Really?” Dream looks around theatrically. “I don’t see anyone.”

George grits his teeth, turning away. “Shut up.”

Dream thinks. Getting rid of him now would be comically easy. His eyes go over the building again. He’d never seen someone with a leg like that make a climb like that. Not to mention he’s apparently afraid of heights? He has respect for that kind of climb, at least. They’re certainly not bad.

Still. They’d annoyed him for too long.

He grips his sword tighter, taking a step towards him silently, like a cat stalking it’s prey. He slowly raises the blade-

A figure with a bandage around their arm rounds the corner, and a familiar voice calls out.

“George!”

Dream backs off, still sorely feeling his own wounds and the arrow in his shoulder. Before Bad can do anything, Dream had already turned and dissapeared behind a corner.

“George, oh my gosh! Was that Dream?! I’m so sorry it took so long to get here, Sapnap was bleeding out, and- Oh my gosh, that’s a lot of blood.”

“Y-yeah.” George manages to breathe out, now leaning on Bad for support.

“George? George! Stay with me, here. It’s just down the street.”

George nods weakly, clinging to Bad as they make their way to a dimly lit building.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im too impatient to wait a whole week so take the next chapter now aldkfjsdf

Dream has scouted every corner at this point, and at any moment Techno’s clan is going to be ready to chop his head off. Or worse. He shudders at the thought of it.

His last hope is a small infirmary, guarded by the King’s guards, and apparently heavily so. It lays untouched by the clan, unaffected by the bloody fights in the streets and the woman with the daggers.

He hates it. It’s his last hope, and he also hates it.

He hears something almost like a step behind him, and knows it’s a soulbound, iron ring, or this.

Going through the main entrance would be insane, so he silently creeps around the building. He spots a half-window at the ground, and after a brief listen, begins to squeeze himself through.

He barely manages to do so on time, already hearing a guard alerted near the side of the building at the quiet thud from Dream falling inside. He presses his back against the wall as the guard looks into the basement window. He doesn’t dare breathe, but eventually, the guard passes.

He gives a slow exhale, adjusting his mask before sinking down to the ground. He sets his bag on the floor. He’s in some kind of small bedroom, but the bed is empty.

He begins to quietly rummage through for some bandages. He finally gets himself fixed up when the door opens and light floods in.

He looks up to see an all-too-familiar face. George. They both freeze and stare at eachother.

Dream breathes out in annoyance. “For fuck’s sake.”

George flicks on a lantern as Dream already has his travel pack back on him, but his stance is weak. Still. George has to be more hurt, right?

Dream grits his teeth. He really, really regrets coming to Ragnorak.

\---

He’s right there, mask and sword and all.

George stands and stares. He’s barely up. If Dream just lunges forward with his sword once, he’s dead. But if George screams, then Dream’s dead.

He manages to still ball up a fist. As he’s about to take a step back to call for someone, a hand grabs him and harshly pulls him inside. The door slams shut behind him, and Dream is holding him in a death grip.

“No, wait-!”

Dream hesitates for a brief moment. 

George’s breath stutters. “They’re going to kill you if they find me dead.” It’s a bad argument and he knows it. There’s a chance they might not find him till morning.

Suddenly, Dream’s grip loosens. Just enough that George doesn’t think he’s going to be choked to death any second now.

A few moments of silence pass before Dream finally speaks up.

His voice is low and creepily calm, rolling deep in his chest. “Right now, I’m a loner. Not a clan member, not a clan  _ owner _ , just a lone showoff. Good at running, and fighting, sure, but just that.”

“Why are you…?”

Dream’s grip tightens, and he clasps a hand over George’s mouth. “If Techno’s clan out there gets me, they’ll make me into one of theirs. Bad for you, bad for me.” 

He hears Dream take a deep breath. He thinks he heard him shake just a little, unsure if he imagined it or not. “If you keep your mouth shut, I’ll leave before the break of dawn, and be out of Ragnorak before you wake up tomorrow.”

George’s mind races. This is a terrible idea. What he’s saying makes sense, but he tenses just at the thought. Dream’s left him to die, he’s spread chaos and fear and death across more places than he can count, all for the eternal competition of being the most feared criminal in the kingdom of Rua. 

But George is exhausted. And, logically, so is Dream.

It would be just as easy for George to kill him in his sleep as it would be for Dream. It all just depends on who falls asleep first, and George wishes he weren’t so hellishly tired. 

This idea is horrible, but as he is now, George probably won’t even be able to get up on his own. He certainly can’t fight him.

After a long time, he nods, and Dream takes his hand away. They’re both sat on the floor, and George doesn’t know if he can even get up with his stupid leg. The best he could do is crawl.

Dream shifts, and George flinches, a trickle of adrenalin running through him before making him slump down again. George curses quietly.

Dream lets out a quiet laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. George glares up at him, propping himself up with his arms.

Dream watches him, and George knows that he’d interviene if George tries anything. He may be tired, but he’s not as injured as George. Then again, Dream’s wounds are barely tended to. Maybe he’s just waiting for George to sleep so he can kill him quietly…

Soft, even breathing interrupts his thoughts, and George blinks.

No way.

He has to be pretending. George reaches a hand up, still sat half between Dream’s legs, and holds it up close to his face. Warm breaths swirl over his hand harmlessly.

Well, this is it, then. This is his chance. 

He would use a pillow, because it was the least messy, but he didn’t know if he had the strength to constrain Dream. Not to mention he’s awkwardly leaned against a wall, and Geroge really doesn’t want to make the crawl.

He doesn’t have any weapons on him, so how-

He spots the sword handle.

Slowly, slowly, like pulling a piece of meat away from a sleeping lion, he unsheathes the diamond sword.

It glitters lowly in the lantern light. Iron and diamond seemed the same to him during normal light, perhaps, or when it was completely dark. But upon closer inspection, the diamond sword sucked in the light, fractured it and shone it outwards twofold. Small, white specks of light dance over the room as George turns the weapon in his hand.

It seems to practically glow. It’s… pretty.

He turns his attention back to his task. He shifts, slowly, quietly, and brings the blade up to his throat.

Now or never. George bites his lip, and suddenly notices one of the bloodstains on the sword. Blood that Dream shed. Blood, more of which would be running down him any minute now, if George could only get his thoughts together.

The handle is still good, but worn down comfortably from use. George’s fist clenches tighter. Come on, George. It’s not that hard. He gulps. Dream is usually the one killing things with this sword, and now he’s about to use it in the exact same way.

No, no, why does he think that? Dream kills innocent people. Dream isn’t innocent.

He stares at the mask, watching his chest rise and fall evenly. Slowly, his free hand begins to reach out, and gently begin to push the mask to the side. His heart hammers in his chest.

George’s eyes flick up to his face, softly framed by the lanternlight. He takes a sharp breath in when he sees a long scar, pulling itself diagonally all the way over his face. It looks like the slash must’ve barely missed an eye. He gulps. It’s strange, to see a tired human face behind the mask...

Oh come on. He’d chased after him for over two months now. He tries to remember the people, bloodied and terrified, and his grip on the sword tightens.

Instead, he remembers when they once entered a village, only to find a lone boy standing in the middle, sword in hand. He lunged at them wordlessly, and it took everything in George to convince the others not to hurt him.

It turned out that Dream had been to that village, and, with the armor and the weapons and whatnot, the boy thought they were still under attack.

He breathes out, both frustrated and pained at his own inability to see this through. He doesn’t see a murderer. In the soft light, slumped defenselessly against the stone wall, running away from the horrible world outside, he just looks like a boy.

What kind of life does he live? What does it have to be like, to have to seek cover in an enemy, criminal clan’s territory, constantly on the run? Even if he wanted to turn back now, he couldn’t. He’s wanted dead or alive across the entire kingdom and then some.

Goddammit. He’s a murderer. There’s nothing he can say to him to change what he does, to change his mind. There’s no better world you could place him in to make all of his bloodthirst go away.

Is there?

To be honest, he has no idea where Dream comes from. It never mattered. 

To be even more honest, he’d never been forced to take a human life before. No, he’d never taken a human life before, period. 

Maybe he would have, if he’d done it before, or if Sapnap or Bad were with him, or if he were holding his own sword and not Dreams, or if his last memory of him weren’t shaky breaths and a shady deal just to get some shut-eye.

No doubt, he still hates him. He definitly feels like kicking him in the stomach. Maybe twice for good measure. In fact, he would even watch him bend over and cough and whatnot, laugh at him, ask him what it tastes like. But killing is just…

He sighs softly. What would his friends say? He’d endangered their lives so much, and George can’t even… Do this. With trembeling fingers, he pushes the mask back into place. Dream’s face scrunches up for a moment, and George freezes, but Dream relaxes again and gives a quiet snore.

He feels weak. Maybe they were right. What kind of protector is he? What kind of soldier? He swore an oath to the king, to enforce law and protect those in harms way. He’d be protecting future lives, at the cost of one. 

He places the sword on the ground quietly. His whole body feels heavy. He curls up on the floor. He’s a failure. He’s… he’s…..

\---

‘Before dawn’ was definitly a shit promise to make. Napped but definitly not well rested, Dream quickly gets his things together. Maybe he can get a head start this time. Or even just a normal start. That’d be good. Did his sword unsheathe at night? It would explain his sore neck.

He has to wait a while until the guards change shift before he squeezes himself back outside through the tiny window.

Actually…

He kicks against the house, lingering, and a guard immedietly spots him.

“Hey! Wait, you’re that Dream guy- ALARM!”

Dream takes off, running through the sparsely populated streets while guards rush after him. He watches the shadows gaze hungrily, unsatisfied, but not about to ambush a small brigade of guards.

With burning lungs and burning legs he runs outside the city gates, leaving Ragnorak far behind.

\---

Bad’s voice wakes George gently. He begins to stir, blinking.

“Why’d you sleep on the floor, dummy? We could’ve helped you get to the bed.”

“Oh.” George looks around. Everything is so traceless he wonders if he just had a weird dream last night. “Dunno, guess I just… passed out?”

Bad takes the lie pretty well, probably chalking it up to George still being half-asleep.

“Come on, we need some breakfast. And we’re probably going to be writing to the King while we’re here.”

Bad helps George limp outside the room, flicking the lantern off. 

George feels like he’s sitting on ants, trying not to let it show. What is he going to tell them? That Dream just came into his room at night, fell asleep on the floor, and he just didn’t have the heart to kill him because the lantern was all pretty and he was morally concerned about using his enemy’s weapon?

There is no explaining it. If he says it, they’ll send him right back home. Give him a little pat on the back. It just wasn’t meant to be, and all that.

No. George stiffens. He didn’t train for nothing. He wants to be able to protect people. And maybe… maybe he can capture Dream without killing him?

He knows it’s a fools wish. 

Their mission is to kill Dream, and nothing else.

  
  
  


George is the one sat down to write, carefully tracing every letter. The atmosphere is quiet. Bad is sipping on some tea, and Sapnap stares into the distance. It would be a day or two until they could remotely move again.

“Okay, well, what else do we say other than we definitly haven’t caught him yet?”

Bad hmms. “I guess if they see him anywhere they should tell us, we wanna know how far he is.”

George nods, thinks for a moment and begins to write again, the feather scraping over the paper. Occasionally, he would dip it into the ink, causing Bad to tiredly follow his motions.

Sapnap clears his throat into the quiet. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Bad looks to him and blinks. “For what?”

“I got us split up, and rushed ahead, and almost  _ killed _ , Bad! All we did is get hurt from chasing after him. We should’ve stopped and gone back for George.”

George lowers his head, pretending to read the letter over again. He definitly wasn’t happy with Sapnap for it, but he knows he’s a horrible liar, and he’s much more concerned about them not finding out about last night.

They both look at him, and George just shrugs, dipping the feather into ink again.

Sapnap gives a stressed sigh. “Maybe you guys were right. I don’t think I can lead this, I keep getting us almost-killed.”

Bad sits up straighter, trying to be encouraging. “Aw, Sap, it’s not you that’s the problem, it’s Dream! You’re just trying your best. You’re pushing us forward, you know?”

Sapnap hangs his head silently, and George continues to scritch the paper.

Bad turns to George for help. “You still think Sapnap should be in charge, right?”

George pauses. The half hour he spent on the roof and climbing down were the most terrifying and painful minutes of his life. He knows that it’s mainly Dream’s fault, of course. Maybe partially his, for being afraid of heights, for being weak, for not being fast enough.

He just shrugs silently. How can he blame Sapnap for anything if he couldn’t even do the simplest of things? He had Dream right there, right where he needed to be. It would’ve been so easy.

Bad gives him a concerned look. “Aw, George… You know Sap was just-”

George twitches and snaps. “It’s not his fault, I know, okay? It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been such a fucking coward!”

The two stare at him in silence as George finishes a sentence on paper, setting the dots on the ‘i’s. He tries not to shake, tries not to think of yesterday, or Dream’s stupid lanternlit face and that painful looking scar and the glowing diamond sword in his hands.

Bad sighs softly, trying to catch George’s gaze, but he doesn’t look up from the letter.

“George…”

“Anything else we need to write?”

Sapnap shrugs. “Nah, I think that’s it.”

“Okay.” George places the quill into the small ink bottle, blowing over the letter to help it dry before rolling it up and wrapping the red ribbon around it. He seals it with wax and the stamp from the infirmary.

\---

After two days of rest, they’re on the road again. They recieved note that Dream went along the trading path north, spotted by some guards on patrol. He got away before they could catch him, though, and they had a patrol to finish.

They step along the stone path, stocked up on things and still going slow so George doesn’t undo his stitches. He got the tiniest three drops of a healing potion, helping him get to a point where they can move again, but not much more than that.

Sapnap speaks up into the quiet. “Bad, what did Dream mean, when we were back there?”

“Huh?”

“He said you don’t fight like a footsoldier or something?”

“Oh.” Bad shrugs uncharacteristically. “Dunno.”

George tries to save his friend, knowing Sapnap can pry sometimes. “Probably because he was afraid of getting his ass kicked.”

“Yeah, guess so.” As much as Sapnap sounded unconvinced, there were better times to pry for details. They have a criminal to catch, and the young man hefting an axe over his shoulder is nothing if not loyal.


	3. Chapter 3

He knows he has an advantage, mostly that of time. But unlike them, he can’t enter cities and request supplies and walk around as if he belongs there. That mostly only works in large cities anyway, and every large city belongs to  _ someone _ .

Still, after two days of travel, he needs new supplies, and he needs to get a full night’s sleep. Sleeping out in the wilderness without getting caught was getting increasingly difficult. Usually he would stay on the west side of the kingdom, where he has more allies than enemies, but his three annoying chasers had pushed him far outside of his comfort zone.

He approaches a small settlement with his hood deep over his masked face. Few guards patrolled this city, and even fewer nobles stepped into it. Illumina’s clan has a loose hold here. It almost makes him wish he hadn’t beat their leader last time they fought, and caused him to curse after Dream saltily.

Almost.

The loose hold was easily explained by the hot air and the pale trees, looking like they were just barely holding up against the sun. The savannah held the small city in it’s hands, which sprawled over the open plains and small, nearby lakes thirstily. The houses were low, and he’s sure more people here lived in slum-like conditions than in actual homes.

Technically speaking, it was considered to be the outskirts of Tempa, close enough to the larger city to profit from it, but far away enough that only the stupid paid their taxes here. And the unlucky guards who work here, he supposes.

Bundles of people covered in cloth from the sun and the heat pass by him calmly. He’s sure one or two would recognize him vaguely, or at least have an idea. Nobody indicated it to him, though.

The market place is huge, with wares partially suspiciously cheap. Huge, but low, as if cowering before the sun. The sounds of murmurs, sellers shouting their offers, the scent of old wood, sand, grilled vedgetables and rabbit meat filled his senses. This place was a smaller village once, with a few of the houses still standing. A single, distant branch of a noble family still dares to reside here, guards occasionally weaving through the crowd to give the impression that they had everything under control. From what he knows, Illumina seems to have a deal with them.

He spots a man roughly shoving a guard to the side before dissapearing into the crowd. The guard turned to find nobody to blame. People kept their distance to the armored figures, some even casting glares or pointedly ignoring them, and for good reason. Dream pulls his hood lower.

He watches a guard slamming a fist down on one of the market stands, yelling at the old man and young daughter behind the counter, and makes a note to remember the stature and face. A few beggars sit gathered to the side. He spots the tower of the noble family, easily gazing over the low stands and shaky buildings. The ornaments on it look alien compared to the world around it.

He briefly spots a young woman hanging out to the side near a stand with apples. She gives him a sharp look, and immedietly dissapears deeper into the crowd. Well. It’ll be time to say hi soon.

After getting the supplies he needs from the market, he turns deeper into the housing parts of the city, low buildings leaning towards the thin, sandy roads. 

He was looking for a place to stay, but a firm hand suddenly grabs his wrist, and he turns to stand face to face with someone he doesn’t know. The dark red clothes, gray hood and thin build give him a pretty good hunch on why they stopped him, though.

A woman minding her own business is already looking over, concern written over her face. A group of young teens are also beginning to murmur, debating getting the hell out of here in case a fight breaks out. He won’t start a fight out here on the street like this.

After a few bated breaths, Dream raises his head, giving a clear view of his mask. The young man that stopped him loosens his grip, voice bravely even. “He wants to see you. You know who.”

“Personally?” 

There’s curiosity and suspicion in his voice that the younger criminal catches easily. He fishes out a small gold necklace from underneath his clothes to show it off, depicting a familiar sun symbol.

Dream nods, and begins to follow him between the cramped buildings.

\---

The room is lit lowly despite the heat outside. He had no idea the clan leader himself would be here right now, but it definitly made running away again difficult. If he’s here, then so are the best of his fighters.

He decides to stand rather than sit. The building is set half into the ground to provide a more comfortable temperature. The young man lights two torches at the side, illuminating the sandstone and a sun-symbol carved into the walls.

Illumina himself comes down from the acacia wood staircase, flanked and followed by a total of three of his fighters. There’s a table and formidable distance between them.

“Lay down all your weapons.”

Dream forces a smile, knowing they hear it over his voice. “Aw, c’mon, I thought we were friends?”

The clan leader doesn’t find any humour in his joke, and only glares him down. He knows what Dream is capable of.

“Fine.” He lays out his quiver of arrows onto the table first, followed by his crossbow and his diamond sword. “Alright, all clean. I’m just passing through here, though.”

Illumina’s voice is low and professional. “I know. You’re being hunted.”

Dream lets out an easy laugh, trying to loosen up the atmosphere, ignoring the wretching feeling in his gut. “Oh my god, you have no idea! They’re increadibly annoying.” He pauses, watching the clan leader from behind his mask, voice more serious. “I don’t really care where I stay, I’ll find myself something. I’m off at dawn. Not here to mess with anything.”

“You wouldn’t be here like this if you weren’t low on resources, or time. Listen. I have an issue with one of your hunters, and I’m telling you this personally so you take it seriously.”

“Go on?”

“Darryl Jeffron, formerly known as Halo. 50 emeralds on his head.”

“That’s kindof low for a personal-”

Illumina gives him a small smirk, eyeing him down. “You can’t even afford a beer right now.”

Dream plays offended. “What! Says who?”

He turns serious again. “In any case, you haven’t quite earned your stay here, and you know it.”

“Aight. I’ll kill someone here that you guys need dead?”

Illumina raises a brow at him. “We have someone in mind we’ve been having trouble with. It won’t be as easy as you might think.”

“Cool.”

“And you’ll still have to pay.”

“Alright.”

“Good.” The clan leader eyed him sharply, anger in his voice. “And get your face out of here tomorrow, or you’re next. You’ve got a high price on your head.”

\---

Now, hunting, that’s much more his taste. 

He knows the place, the name, everything. He does wonder why Illumina hasn’t taken the woman out himself yet, but he’s sure he can deal with it either way.

The building has a low window on the back that he swings himself through.

The room is a mess, wood splinters and broken furniture laying about. Huh. Was someone else quicker?

As he steps over the wood planks below his feet - it’s strange that such a cheap house has a flooring like that - he suddenly hears a sound from below.

Oh. It  _ is _ weird that it has a flooring.

Quietly sifting through the wreckage, taking slow steps, he finds a pile of wood that looks like it had to be recently moved.

He finds the trapdoor he was looking for, leading downwards steeply in a crammed spiral staircase.

He creeps down, every nerve on edge, crossbow drawn and arrow in place.

He watches his shadow, but luckily, the stairs are completely dark. He waits, breathing quietly while his eyes adjust to the darkness.

Creeping down into the basement, he sees a light falling onto the stairs. He hears someone walking around, opening cupboards, clinging glass bottles. That’ll be his target.

He jumps down to the entrance, locks eyes with her, and immedietly shoots.

Having thrown herself down within a split second, taking advantage of Dream’s eyes still adjusting to the light, she somehow manages to dodge the arrow. Glass shards spread out onto the floor where his arrow hit a few empty bottles.

Cursing, he takes out his sword, and charges.

The woman grasps a potion, splashing it straight at him. He manages to turn his face away just fine. It starts to burn into his skin like hell itself, but he ignores it, going after her mercilessly.

She gives a surprised shriek as he seems unaffected, reaching out to grab another before he slams his shield into her, knocking her down. He places one foot firmly onto her chest, keeping her on the floor.

“NO, please! I didn’t mean to cross him, I-I was just trying to help!! PLEASE-!”

Does she think he has a choice? Probably not. People just tend to beg for their lives in hopes for a miracle. It’s a survival tactic, and who knows? Maybe sometimes it works.

In this case, though, he knows it’s him or her.

He shoves his sword into her chest until the stone floor underneath stopped his blade, watching her twitch and struggle before going limp. 

He looks around the room before finally doubeling over, the burning on his skin bringing him to his knees. Fuck. With trembeling hands and tears he’s glad nobody can see, he manages to find a neutralizer in the cabinets. 

He lets out a groan as he pours the mix onto his skin, the pain easing off. That should get rid of most of the burn scars, too. 

Back on his feet, he looks around the workroom. Potions, ingredients, fluids and tools are scattered about, colorful and beautiful under the light of the torches, all the things he’d been looking for. Not a bad.

He might’ve done a favor for Illumina, but he’s almost sure this mission itself was an even greater favor back.

\---

One more thing.

He shuffles through the streets, around the marketplace, stalking his personal victim. The guard who had been yelling at the market. He was buying an apple, or rather, fighting the stall owner about the price. The poor man really, really didn’t want to get in trouble with a guard, so he gave in.

Usually he has more time for this, slowly circling in, learning his victim’s every tick, predicting their moves. Not today, though. At least, he didn’t have to be awfully quiet about it this time.

He waits as the guard begins to walk to the guard quarters, low, well-roofed stone buildings near the noble tower. He’s with another guard, talking about something Dream can’t catch.

On a slightly quieter turn, he strikes, slashing hard into the back of the neck of the first guard. He’s quickly met by the iron sword of the other, but a few sword hits later, he downs his opponent with a stab into his right shoulder.

A thud turns his attention away, and he sees a young boy having dropped a basket of lemons onto the ground, eyes wide and terrified. Dream stares at him for a moment. His clothes are thin, barely hugging his frame, hair tousled and greasy.

If he stays, the boy will run off and lose everything he was supposed to carry somewhere. Maybe that was all he had.

With a start, he turns back into the sandy streets, pulling his hood well over his head and heading to find a place to stay the night.

\---

The tiny family inn he found did him just fine. The woman behind the counter gave him an uneasy look, and then an understanding nod as he paid double. She quietly gave him directions to the room and told him breakfast is at sunrise. Good enough.

\---

Stocked up on supplies and healed fully with a few well-placed potion drops, he works his way through the food on his plate. He already had everything ready to go, but before he could finish, a vaguely familiar figure enters the inn. The guy who pulled him off to Illumina from yesterday.

He finds him quickly, and sits across from Dream without any questions. Dream has his mask slightly pushed up to allow him to eat, but no more than that.

“Did you kill two guards yesterday?” His voice is a low growl, clearly unhappy.

“What if I did?”

“We have a  _ deal _ with the guards here, and I  _ know _ you know that.”

“I don’t have any deals with them. Just tell them it was me.”

“They won’t care! They won’t believe us!”

He stops eating, letting the anger into his voice. “That’s not my problem. I killed them, and you can tell your disgusting little snob friends just that!”

The younger man grits his teeth, casting a look around, wary. Dream calmly continues eating, mentally already preparing to run out of here instead of the even hike he was hoping for. Oh well. He never liked Illumina anyway. He brushes shoulders with the uppercrust way too much, and that just just reminds Dream on why he hates Illumina’s clan so much.

Dream stands up sharply, glaring the young man down. He stands up as well, alert. Dream could probably kill him right here, right now. That would be a stupid move, of course, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to let that sink in.

With one smooth motion he draws his sword, the tip of it an inch from his opponent’s face before he even moved. He stands, frozen still, staring back at the mask.

“You’re lucky Illumina is in town.” Dream spits before sheathing his sword and heading out the door.

The young clan member runs out after him not a moment later, dissapearing quickly to undoubtedly tell the entire clan what he just did. 

Great. Another chase it is, then.

\---

To close the 2 day gap between them and Dream, and to allow George some more time to heal, an outpost supplied them with horses. It was worlds easier and faster, but they still had a lot of catching up to do.

Last time Dream was seen near Tempa, so that’s where they would head.

They were nearing the desert again, or at least it felt like it. The sun beamed down on them as the horses lazily trotted along. 

George knew he had to make up for it. He has to make up for… whatever that night was.

Bad speaks up, worry in his voice. “George? You’ve been kindof quiet.”

“I’m just… thinking.”

“‘bout what?”

“What do you think?”

When Bad only gives him a strange look, he gives an annoyed sigh and specifies. “About catching Dream. I’m thinking… I don’t think he’ll head into Tempa, he hasn’t been to any large cities. He passed Trystan, too.”

Bad nods, following along.

“But he seems to kindof circle them, so he’s probably aiming for the outskirts and such. Less guards, more people to blend in with, you know.”

“That would make sense.”   
  


“He hasn’t been to small villages, either, probably too small of a population. I think once we’re caught up, we might actually get to him in the wilderness. It’s still three on one if we stick together. He has the least protection there, and I feel like he’s hiding from more than just city guards.”

Bad looks down at his hands, holding onto the saddle. “The clans might be after ‘im, yeah.”

Sapnap gives a heavy sigh, finally joining in. “George, you know better where we’re supposed to head, I think.”

“What-? No, I was just- thinking, is all. I didn’t mean to… like, take over… again.”

“No, it’s fine.” There’s defeat in the young soldier’s voice. “I’m the youngest, and from a normal family, and everything. You’d probably be better in charge.”

George pauses with surprise. “Me? Sapnap, I didn’t go become a guard because I thought I could lead people. I’m too quiet, and like, unsure? You know what I mean.”

Bad chimes in, trying to sound encouraging. “Maybe we should just work together?”

George nods. “Or that.”   
  


“I dunno, I just…” Sapnap shakes his head a little, shoulders hunched over, vulnerable only when he knows his two best friends are near and nobody else. “I don’t know if I’m good enough for this.”

“Sapnap…” George steers his horse a bit closer to his friend. “I don’t need to be officially in charge, but you do. This isn’t just about leading. I know that you… that your… that you need it on paper, at least. And that’s fine. You don’t need to be good enough to have it on paper. We’re going to go back and tell the general you were the best leader out there.”

“But I- I didn’t earn it!”

“Listen, I know this sounds bad, maybe, but,” George takes a breath, “I don’t care. I want you to be able to get by. You know I don’t need it. Bad only has to care for himself. We’ll… figure this out.” He tries to give him an encouraging smile, even though he knows he’s a bad liar. “We’ll... catch Dream, and we’ll get you that raise, and it’ll be fine, okay?”

Bad tries to be encouraging as well, now flanking Sapnap from the other side. “He’s right. We gotta stick together, and this guard stuff doesn’t change anything. Don’t worry about it. Right now, we just gotta focus on catching Dream.”

“Okay, well… thanks, you two, I guess.”

George rolls his eyes jokingly. “You guess?”

Sapnap laughs a little. “Yeah, okay. Where do you think he’ll head next?”

George looks out to the horizon. If he were Dream, on the run, where would he go after Tempa?

Thinking of their route, it almost felt like… he was going back.

_ “As my last direct order to you before you’re on your own… Chase him out of Dona at any cost, away from the capital, into the wild.” _

George jolts upwards. “I’m so stupid! He’s going to go back. He’s trying to get back to Dona in one big fat circle! Where the general told us to keep him out of!”

Bad looks at him, trying to remember their route. “Are you sure?”

“Of course! That’s where he has all his stupid allies- that’s why we waited so long to start our mission! And now he’s ahead of us!”

Sapnap points to the outskirts of Tempa coming into view. “Not for long.”

\---

After Tempa, a massive city with high, sandstone walls and a river going through the middle, the terrain became rockier. Planes became hills and hills became small mountains. Trees became more common, the grass a darker, lusher green, oak and pine replacing the acacia gradually.

Dream was insanely glad to get out of all that in one piece. Illumina’s clan chased him right to the other side of Tempa, and definitly got him spotted by guards more than once. Which means his hunters are on his trail again, and he has a long stretch ahead. 

No matter. He’ll make it. Somehow.


	4. Chapter 4

With a specific direction in mind, glancing at their compasses, they make their way past Tempa. Leaving the horses at an outpost, they get back on their feet, tackeling the wilderness beyond. 

The sun began to set, the trees casting long shadows. George pushed on. They had to be close. The forest made the evening seem all the darker.

Just as Bad was about to suggest they take a break for the night, legs and shoulders aching, George stops dead in his tracks, squinting into the darkness.

“Is that something or am I just colorblind?”

Sapnap walks next to him, looking to where George is pointing. His eyes widen. “That’s wood! That looks like… a house?”

Bad tiredly follows the two. “All the way out here?”

George sets his travel pack down. “We have to go check it out.”

The other two nod, following his example. They stop, and George and Sapnap stare at eachother. George shifts a little. “Uh, you first, though.”

“You sure? I don’t have to go first if you want to.”

George tries not to sound too nervous, the forest beginning to look a lot creepier than it did during the day. “I’m good, thanks.”

They approach the house, which turns out to be more of an abandoned ruin. George feels his skin start to crawl. It’s getting dark. Monsters will be out soon. 

They start to circle it. No signs of life anywhere, but also no visible way inside that isn’t blocked off by either nature or permanently locked doors.

They drag their travel packs to one side of the house with somewhat of a clearing. George starts to make a fire while Bad prepares the food. Sapnap stands guard, mostly, staring suspiciously out into the dark.

He lights a torch at one point, lighting the trees with it, almost ready to step into the undergrowth.

Bad finishes tossing the salted meat near the fire. “Whatcha lookin for?”

“I don’t know, I think I… saw something? Or, uh, heard, rather.”

George sits close to the fire, iron sword laid out in front of him, leaning against his shield. “Probably a monster. I’d rather you don’t wave it over, honestly.”

“No, it was still a bit too bright for them when I heard… I think?”

Bad sits down by the fire near George, iron shortsword nearby. “Well, we’re not sleeping yet, so I guess we’ll find out. You have to eat, though.”

“I guess so…”

\---

Dream sits dead quiet, the darkness covering him well. He keeps looking through the shadows intently, watching for the slightest movement, fully alert. The slightest sound could mean he has to split.

He can spot the distant light of a campfire, somewhat on a slope so Dream could see it easily. He begins to approach, slowly, and starts to scale the other side of the house.

The wood is old and mostly rotten, but that also allows him for some foothold when he needs it. If there’s one thing he’s good at, then it’s climbing.

He peeks down from the roof, closely hugging the wood logs. Movement near the campfire makes him hesitate. 

Two breaths later, he loads his crossbow.

\---

Sapnap keeps looking into the darkness, suspicious but slowly calming down. Bad sits across from the house, now coated completely in darkness. He thought he saw something move on the roof for a moment, but it was too dark to tell. Probably just a bird.

He rolls his shoulders back, forcing himself to relax. They’re miles out from Tempa, in the wild. They know where Dream is headed. Their campfire is lit and keeping the monsters away. He takes a deep breath, knowing he’s too paranoid. 

Still. No matter how long it’s been, he continues to get antsy near Tempa and especially some of its outskirts.

Suddenly, Sapnap stirs, grabbing and lighting his torch.

Bad eyes the forest behind him, then his friend. “Everything okay?”

“I just thought I saw-”

A shadow parts from the forest behind Bad.

George manages to shove his shield in between Bad and an iron shortsword last second. Sapnap and Bad grab their weapons as two more rush from the trees. Their dark hoods cover them well, but flashes of red and orange give them away in the torchlight. 

One of them manages to shove George back while the other charges at Sapnap, keeping him busy.

Bad finds himself face to face with an attacker of his own, up against a diamond shortsword in each hand. 

He tries his best to block the flurry of blades, getting pushed back into the dark of the forest. Sapnap finally drives his axe into the side of his attacker, making the man flee into the dark. Pushing down the urge to chase him, he goes to help George.

Distracted, Bad takes a slash to his right arm, quickly tossing the weapon over into his left to keep fighting, but he’s no match.

His attacker manages to kick one leg out from under him and he stumbles to the ground.

George and Sapnap finish beating back the second attacker together before turning, and seeing a diamond blade raised and ready to kill Bad.

Before any of them could react, an arrow lodged itself into the neck of the attacker. He stumbles, and slumps to the ground right in front of Bad, staring down in shock.

With a start, they all turn to see where the arrow came from.

Sapnap grabs his torch to illuminate the dark, and they find a familiar masked man lowering his crossbow.

Wait, what?

Dream puts his crossbow away, adjusting his footing on the rotting roof. “Don’t look at me like that. You should know I hate Illumina’s clan with a burning passion. I wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction.”

Bad has stood up, clutching one bleeding arm. “What do they want from us?!”

Dream looks straight at Bad when he answers. “Illumina has 50 emeralds set on your head,  _ Halo _ .” He tilts his head to the side curiously, pausing. “So I think you know.”

George and Sapnap look back to Bad, confused. 

“What-? No, I don’t know, I swear!”

“You just don’t want them to find out. You even fight weirdly.”

He was getting increasingly panicked, voice rising. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about! I fight like anyone would!”

Dream lets out a laugh at getting a rise out of the soldier, clearly enjoying the drama. “You fight like one of  _ them _ , and you’re a  _ terrible _ liar.”

“N-no, I...!” Before he can think of a retort, he sees both his friends staring at him, a cold feeling running down his back. No. No…

George cuts in. “Wait. Why not just wait till they kill us and swoop in after? Or weaken us?”

“I didn’t want to give them the-”

“You helped him. We’re still after you, you know. You should want him dead just as much.”

Dream doesn’t answer for a moment, the night eerily quiet. “Think. Think really hard about what retort I have on my tongue right now, against  _ you _ .”

George opens his mouth again to say something before he realizes what Dream is talking about. He closes his mouth, jaw clenched. How much does Dream really still know about that night? He squints at the figure, but he’s not done. Not yet.

He just has to take his chances. “Yeah, because that’s a story you’ll want to tell, right?”

Dream stares back at him, quiet. Hah.

He lifts his face to the dark sky for a moment, looking up. Before anybody else can say something, he’s already talking. “I’d move if I were you, by the way. Two got out of here alive, and they’ll bring more.”

George exchanged glances with his two friends, who were indeed unsure, glancing into the darkness. Oh no. He’s not going to let that work. He grabs his bow, and aims.

Dream scrambles off into the darkness quicker than he thought, and he hears his arrow hit the wood. Abandoning his shield and grabbing a torch, he runs into the dark after him.

Sapnap calls after him, but follows his example. Bad grabs the two diamond shortswords of his attacker after a moment of hesitance, and follows too.

It’s pointless. Their arrows go off into the void, weapons slashing at plants at best. Dream is too quick to navigate the undergrowth, too nimble around obstacles that make them fall back. He probably had an escape route planned out beforehand, too.

George stops despite wanting to keep chasing. Sapnap almost runs into him. 

“Did you lose him? He was just-”

“No. It’s just… this is pointless. We need to get back to our camp and rest. We’re not gonna catch up to him anyway.” George pauses, looking back at the other two. “Uh, sorry to drag you out all this way.” Bad just shakes his head, and they start to head back.

They eat, organize their things, roll out their sleeping bags. But the fire continues to crackle, and the night drags on, and they sit in a circle around the campfire silently.

Bad knows he has to say something. George knows he has to say something. Sapnap stares into the flames, unsure what to think.

Sapnap tosses another bit of wood into the fire to keep it going before everything falls back into silence. Finally, he takes a breath, and looks to his two best friends. Neither meet his gaze.

“Okay, so. Are we… gonna talk? Or just go sleep and pretend nothing happened?”

Bad takes a deep breath, exhaling into the night. He closes his eyes for a moment, silently accepting his fate, before he finally looks back at his friend and starts to talk.

“I… I don’t know how much you could piece together, and I don’t want you to think I’ve been lying to you! It’s just… Okay, well, I guess I have been.”

Bad lowers his head as he continues. “You heard Dream. I’m… I used to be…” He rings with the words, forcing them out while staring at the grass beneath him. “I used to be in Illumina’s clan. Lived in Tempa. Gave all that up years ago, and, you know…” He looks up, trying to give an apologetic smile. “The rest is history?”

He sees his friends’ conflicted expression, and his smile falters. “I’m sorry! I wanted to be better. I thought… I thought I could change, and forget it ever happened! I just…” He sighs. “I kind of wish I would have told you myself, instead of you guys finding out when Illumina comes for my head.”

Sapnap looks at him, nodding, taking in the information. “How long ago did you… leave?”

“Four and a half years ago. I… was born into it, pretty much. From their perspective, I left to join the enemy. I didn’t get anyone to understand. Although… I was more concerned about myself at the time, if I’m honest.”

George speaks up softly, staring into the fire. “What made you leave?”

Bad falls quiet, thinking for a solid minute before answering. “I’m sorry, I don’t think the reason is as good as you think it is, honestly.”

“But what was it?”

“I mean, I think I really did want to be a better person, too? But I also… I was tired. I was tired of being scared. Of the guards, of the capital, of the king. So I did, I guess, what people like me do.” His voice is bitter as he talks. “I figured it would be safer to follow after the strongest group out there, and with time I just figured that that’s… the king.”

Bad quickly continues after a moment of silence. “I mean, I really do want to be better! I want to protect people, and just… not be… you know, shitty anymore like that.”

Sapnap gasps. “Bad! Language!”

Bad can’t help but laugh despite the situation, and George just shakes his head at them. 

“I mean… I thought… you’d be more mad at me? I mean, maybe you are. For the record, the king doesn’t actually, uh, know about all this.”

Sapnap thinks for a moment, and then gives his friend a hard pat on the back. “You know what? You’re here now, and all that. We’re still friends and stuff, don’t worry about it. I mean, I guess it’s weird to think you were like that? You’re the last person I thought would be.”

Bad gives a small laugh. “Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Sapnap looks over the fire. “George?”

George looks up, snapped out of his thoughts. “What?”

Sapnap gestures to Bad, and George blinks. Bad grows tense again, watching his friend.

“I mean… Sapnap has a point. I can’t even imagine you like that.”

“Oh. Well… yeah, I guess I was pretty different.”

Sapnap gives George a sharp look. “He’s much better now, though, right George?”

Bad’s face falls a little as he intervenes. “It’s okay, don’t force him. I get it, really. If you want to tell the king, then…”

Sapnap cuts in. “Oh no he’s not. George, stop being an asshole and say something.”

“I’m not being an asshole!”

“Uhh, yeah you are. How’s this different from telling the general I’m a good leader so I get the promotion, huh?”

They all know it’s different. George stares into the light, indecisive. He has to confess what he did himself too at some point, it seems. Of course he knows Bad is a good person now. In fact, the dedication his friend held to make those around him happy and comfortable suddenly has a good reason. But if that’s possible, then his thoughts at the infirmary weren’t all complete, sleep-deprived nonsense.

It was still weird to think of. His friend for years, and he never even had a hunch. Did he used to be like… him?

George shakes his head, looking up. He’d already long made up his mind, and he knew it. “Nah, I don’t see why the King would have to know. You’re who you are now, it’s not like you cheated to get here. You put in the work, is all, so before shouldn’t matter.”

If anything, George is the one who cheated. He keeps that thought to himself, though.

Bad still looks unsure, glancing over. “Are you sure? I mean… I never… I never got punished for anything.” He grows quieter. “Maybe I should.”

George thinks. Theoretically, they wouldn’t just kick Bad out altogether. He’d been a successful soldier and guard for years now. Then again, who knows? The King isn’t exactly short on guards.

“I don’t know.” George shrugs. “I don’t see what that would… do, you know?”

Bad nods. “I know, it’s just… I still feel bad. I still did things nobody should do.”

Sapnap speaks up again, looking away. “I mean… you guys know my family isn’t super well off. And, at some point… me and my brother stole something from the market.” He shrugs. “We didn’t have anywhere else to go, anywhere to work. I don’t think anybody would blame two kids for stealing food because they need to eat. And then I joined the guards. I don’t know. I’d never want to punish my brother because of that.”

Bad shifts. “Well, yeah, but… it’s different. I did worse, and maybe… if I paid attention, I would’ve left sooner.”

“Maybe if I paid attention, we could’ve found work sooner. Same thing.”

“But- I did it for more than just food, it was- It was a competition! The clans constantly compete, with each other and on the inside. I was competing too! We had these… missions we would compete over for literally just bragging rights, and… Ugh. I don’t know.”

George tries to sound soft, encouraging, ignoring his own rage of emotions. His friend needs him right now, and he can see that. “But you’re here now. You didn’t know better, and I don’t think you had a chance to do better, you know?” 

Everything in him is against the idea. He could’ve killed someone in cold blood. Robbed people. Broken the things they loved, and then turned over a new leaf as if it was all behind him. “I mean, what could you have done? Go turn yourself in? And then what? They’d lock you away and they would have never gotten the guard they got.”

Bad still sounds unsure, watching his friend. “I guess so. I know it still upsets you, though. That’s okay.”

George sighs at himself. Hearing Bad tell him it’s okay, after admitting to everything, after being the most optimistic person he knows, that it’s okay for him to think…

He knows what they think George thinks. That Bad doesn’t deserve to be here. That he should still be punished. He stares into the fire, trying to sort his thoughts. He’d been taught the exact opposite of what was coming out of his mouth, and at the same time he knew, he felt, it was the right thing to say.

“Bad… I don’t want to be mad at you. I mean, I wish we’d known, but… You did everything you could. You did something really good. You changed all on your own.” He tries to make his voice firm, convincing himself, too. “I was taught differently, but you know what? I’ve never been in your place. I have no idea what it’s like, so what do I know?”

George looks at Bad, determined. “You’re my best friend just as much as Sapnap is. We stick together, no matter what. I know who you are  _ now _ .”

Bad finally smiles a little, and Sapnap looks less mad at him now. “Thank you.”

\---

Dream hates monsters. Well, everyone does, but tonight they seemed to be particularly annoying. Another arrow misses him by a hair, and he quickly scales a tree, hoping to make it in time. No fire tonight, but maybe the broader branches will allow him a spot to sleep.

He has to start moving before dawn again, too. He was used to it by now, but that didn’t make it any more comfortable.

If he can make it back to the west side of the kingdom on time, he’s sure either of the dominating clans on that side could help him with his… problem. In exchange for a price, of course, probably one or two difficult targets. That would be fine by Dream. He just has to make it over there in one piece, and he has no idea how he’ll continue to outrun through the wilderness.

\---

Per their new plan, they slept in. They had a long day, and night, ahead of them.

With the sun already well in the sky, they began to move, eyeing their compasses. The forest was much easier to traverse during midday. They spotted a broken up skeleton lying about on their way. Dream definitely passed this place during the night.

When the sun begins to set, they keep going, pushing on into the dark. George was startled by a zombie, but Bad disposed of it quickly. He stared at his compass with embarrassment as they kept going. Just as they thought they couldn’t take another step, completely exhausted, they spotted traces of an abandoned, fresh camp. He must have heard them coming and moved. He’s close. 

They set up for the night, and are up just as the sun peeks over the horizon. If they keep pushing today, they’d get him for sure.

George continues to nervously sink into thought every now and then. He wanted to just… figure out why. Maybe, maybe even give him a chance. If he didn’t take it, that’s that, and they’d do what they were sent to do. 

But remembering the scar, remembering the brief conversations with him, something left him curious. He saved Bad from certain death for a reason he can’t quite figure out, and left George alive when he fled the infirmary. Why? Why couldn’t he quite figure out the pattern, even though he was certain there must be one? Dream isn’t stupid. He has a reason to do what he does, even if that reason may be bad.

As evening begins to fall again, they stumble upon a thin, cobbled path.

They quicken their pace, alert. George spots the first houses in the distance, crouching between the trees. Is it his imagination, or is it eerily quiet?

They draw their weapons for good measure, and approach. George is on edge particularly. Maybe today will prove him wrong, and watching Dream kick his way through will be enough to forget any empathy he ever had.

The village lays before them, peacefully quiet. They head to the center, spotting people sitting in their houses, sometimes glancing out. They’re already alert, but it’s quiet. Either he already left, or…

Sounds of breaking wood and voices make them stop. They glance at each other, and rush over.

The garden is unfittingly bright and well tended to, with the low fence gate hanging open, same as the front door.

George pushes on first, the other two closely behind him. 

A crossbow bolt flies past him, and he hears Sapnap cry out behind him. George raises his shield and glances back to see it in his friend’s right shoulder. But he’s alive, thank god.

Bad rushes out from behind George’s shield and charges. Before the blades can even clash, Dream tosses a potion at his face, filling the air with an ear-splitting scream. 

“Bad!” George barely stops himself from rushing to his friend’s side, now rolling on the floor, hands covering his face.

A potion flies towards him, and he raises his shield to block it off, just barely in time. He can’t back off now. Bad needs him, and Sapnap is behind him, unable to use his axe. How did he get all three of them so quickly?

A whimper fills the room, and George spots two teenagers huddled in a corner of the house. Dream hears as well, masked face turning to look at them. They shrink in on themselves even more.

Not all three of them.

George grits his teeth and steps between Dream and the teens, shield raised. He glances out from behind it for only a moment to attack with his sword, clashing against metal. 

He hears another potion fly, but instead of hitting his shield, an insane burning sensation spreads through his legs. Right.

George feels them give out under him, stumbling to the ground and to his knees. He bites the edge of his shield hard, not about to cry out from pain in front of Dream. Sword still grasped tight, gasping for air, he tries to force himself to stand.

Dream watches him shakily stand up again just as Sapnap comes through the door, shield in his left hand, axe back over his shoulder. George calls out a warning to him, but it comes too late. Another potion, darker this time, splashes over the room.

All George can do is duck behind his own shield. When he looks out from it again, Sapnap is stumbling , holding on to one wall.

“What-? What did you do?! I can’t- I can’t see-!”

Dream watches Sapnap silently, the latter shrinking back against the wall, still clutching his shield tightly. The arrow in his shoulder was bleeding. A drop of something lighter, but still vibrant, runs over Sapnap’s armor. Poison. The arrow was poison tipped. Fuck.

George forces himself to stand at least a single inch higher, gritting his teeth. If this is how they’re going down, fine. He’ll die doing what’s right.

Instead of dealing with either of the five people in the room, Dream instead turns to some drawers, which he had seemed to be looking through before the three came bursting in.

George, in pain, hating himself for not having taken his chance at the infirmary, can’t help his tongue. 

“Greedy.”

Dream turns to him quizzically. Or at least, George assumes he does. The mask doesn’t exactly show any emotion.

“Who, me?”

“I don’t know, is anybody else here to steal anything?”

“And this,” Dream holds up a palm-sized gold statue inlaid with emeralds, “isn’t greedy?”

“They worked for that!”

“How? What did they do? Be  _ born? _ ” He can hear the anger in Dream’s voice, suddenly wishing he had kept his mouth shut. He really is going to die here, isn’t he.

George takes a glance around the house. It’s certainly the best looking one in the village. A noble’s holiday stay, if he had to guess, out in the wild and away from the stress of life. 

Something in George clicks, some kind of realization, but he doesn’t like it.

Dream unsheathes his sword, and steps towards George. 

George forces himself up, holding his sword in a shaking grip. His stance is wrong, and he feels like he’s going to drop to the floor any moment now. But the two teens staying dead quiet behind him are innocent. They’d never harmed anybody.

Dream raises his sword, and George stares at his opponent, watching him hesitate. Dream gives a huff, and instead roughly shoves against George’s shield. He feels himself fall to the ground, letting out a strained sound of pain before trying to force himself to stand again.

Dream tries to step past him experimentally, and George finds the strength in him somewhere to shove himself between them, adrenaline forcing him up against the diamond blade.

“Leave them alone! They haven’t done anything to you!”

George stares at Dream, who steps back, finally. Though, George doesn’t know why he would. He could take him out easily. Maybe he’s just letting him suffer before he kills them for all the trouble they put him through.

Dream stares at him silently before rummaging through the drawers again. He pockets this and that, focused on his task.

George turns to the two teens behind him, voice barely a whisper. “Go. Run out the front, and I’ll cover you. Just get as far away as you can. Hide somewhere inside.”

The two look unsure. It’s quite a walk through the house, risky seconds that could cost them their lives. George already tries to gather his strength, the burning sensation on his legs beginning to slowly ease off. He glances over to see Bad also recovering, though probably slower than he is. Sapnap is at the wall still, trying to squint, trying to see something.

He gives the two teens a firm nod, grasping his shield and sword again. 

With a start, they both bolt for the door. Dream gets out his sword only to be blocked off by George, allowing the two to run.

With the last of his strength used up and feeling like half his body is being pulled into hell, George finally sinks to his knees, leaning on his shield.

He can’t do any more than watch as Dream flees the house silently, and prays that the two kids made it.

\---

Dream walks through the forest, stocked up on valuables, and things he can definitely sell later on. But he’s well out of harming potions, and the few steps he is ahead now won’t last him long.

He quickly makes his way through the forest, having to strongly depend on his sense of orientation - which lost him a bit more time - to make his way towards the mountains. He does consider himself good at navigating in open nature, but it’s not like he frequents these parts. Forests aren’t exactly easy to navigate, either.

Despite his thoughts trying to drift, he keeps himself focused on his surroundings. He can think about everything later.

Night begins to fall too quickly. He keeps moving into the dark somewhat, but when a skeleton almost snipes him from afar, he’s forced to take a break.

He makes his way up an old oak tree, settling onto a large branch. 

And now sleep. Right now. Immediately.

He sighs, and accepts defeat. When he closes his eyes, he thinks back to the house, to George standing between him and those two. He knows harming potions burn like a bitch from his own experience. He could tell it wasn’t easy.

Why should that even matter to him? They were a noble family. The worst those two teens got was a scare, and then they’ll go cry to mommy and daddy who are going to buy them new horses or whatever to calm them down. It almost makes him wish he’d scarred at least one of them, the all familiar anger twisting in his stomach.

He could’ve also just killed all three of his hunters. Why didn’t he?

He sighs. They were weak. On the ground, practically. Alright, well, George was willing to die for his cause, so maybe he would have left him. And the other two?

He’d saved Halo, or Daryll, or Bad as they call him, from certain death. So maybe killing him would have been a waste of that gesture. 

Despite trying to think of one, he has no excuse for Sapnap. He just... doesn’t have one. The young guy is a soldier. Not a bad one at that. Definitely very annoying. So why didn’t he kill him?

The night doesn’t answer him, his mind blank. The stars blink up above, the clouds that made nights darker having long passed. The moon looks down onto the forest, illuminating it ever so slightly. Bugs chirp in the dark, calling out for food or mates or whatever it is that causes them to stirr at night. 

It’s quiet, almost peacefully so. And cold, with how he’s been approaching the mountains. Cold and quiet.

A part of him wishes he were already back to the west side, on the outskirts of Dona, where he knew who to avoid and who to trust. Although, he also knew that he wouldn’t be quite as welcome there anymore, with the King so hard on his trail. 

He has allies in Dona. Not friends.

So maybe it doesn’t matter. Even if he gets to Dona, everyone might deny ever having known him anyway. It would be the same game that it’s been for the past two months.

He breathes in the cold night air, staring up through the dark leaves into the starry sky. It’s quiet. It’s painfully quiet. Would it be any louder in the city, in some inn, where he feels like a bee sitting in a wasps nest? Maybe it’s just as quiet there.

Sighing, he tries to roll over somewhat on the medium branch, trying to get more comfortable than he is now. He’ll have to move before the break of dawn again, too. He closes his eyes. The lack of sleep is really starting to weigh down on him. How much longer is this supposed to go on? When is the King going to give up? Maybe he should try faking his death or something.

Not that any of his hunters would fall for it, or at least not for long. Not really. He lets out a weak, hollow laugh to himself, alone here atop this stupid tree in the middle of the cold night, heading god knows where with no hope of anything much anymore.

If this goes on any longer, he’ll start regretting crossing the King in the first place. Maybe he already does. Maybe that’s just how the story goes. He thought he was strong enough to make it, strong enough to resist, only to have gotten overconfident. Maybe it would be easier if his hunters just killed him already.

If he kills them, the King will just send more, anyway. And maybe, just maybe, he was just… used to them at this point. Not that they’d grown on him, or anything. Just… used to them. They’re strong, and fighting for their cause. Things he considers to be good. They’ve just been tricked into fighting for the wrong one, is all. Right?

He wishes he could say for certain he regrets not killing them. Or that he could say he would do it now, without hesitation. Especially that George guy… they’re not stupid. He knows they’re not stupid. Dream has nothing to lose. He’s known them in his own, distant way, for, well, two months now.

So maybe, hearing them bicker or support each other from afar, a tightly knit team unwavering in their resolve, they’ve grown on him a little. A tiny bit. That didn’t, couldn’t, mean anything, of course. They’re still out to kill him. 

He really needs to talk to some people that aren’t out to kill him for once.

And he was definitely going to try to forget about all those weird thoughts and misplaced attachments by tomorrow.

Maybe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright alright, ya'll get a christmas present, which is this chapter 2 days early, for what it's worth. Enjoy!

After two days of being hot on his trail, including a break to sleep off the potions, they spot an outpost in the distance. Finally.

It would still take them half a day to get there, and night was falling quickly. George thought he had spotted Dream at least twice during their travels. He can’t be camping too far away from them.

Or maybe he’s already watching them. George checks his compass. Relatively steady. That’s hopefully a good sign.

\---

The eerie sounds of the forest accompany Dream during his travels, mixed in with an anxious jump of his heart whenever the undergrowth stirs.

But being constantly alert, with every one of his senses focused on spotting his hunters, he also caught a glimpse of something else.

A group of guards patrol the area around the outpost, well out-armed and out-manned for an ordinary patrol. If they know Dream is near, they don’t show it. They seem to be looking for something else.

He follows them in the shadows of the night, curious to confirm one of his supicions. If he’s right, then… Well. It would be… interesting, that’s for sure.

He follows them as they stumble through the dark, mistaking the sounds he makes as that of monsters lurking in the night.

He follows them until they begin to approach a light in the distance. A campfire. 

He squints. He doesn’t like where this is going.

\---

Bad sits near the low campfire, shoulders pulled up and listening to the forest behind him like a cat with its ears flicked back. Insects chirp in the night, accompanied by the distant rustle of tree branches.

A low shout pulls his attention into the darkness, eyes immediately going to the curled up bodies of his friends. Did he mishear, or are there people nearby…?

It can’t be them, can it? There’s no way Illumina has caught up to them already.

A distant, orange light sends Bad into panic.

“George, come on! Someone’s coming-!”

George rolls awake, Sapnap already sat upright. He grabs his iron axe, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. George scrambles for his own sword.

The undergrowth breaks to reveal a guard patrol, spear-headed by a general. The three relax somewhat, standing upright now.

George talks first, something making him feel uneasy. “Uh, sorry, we didn’t make it to the outpost on time before nightfall. Did you… see the campfire smoke…?”

Bad looks into the dark, and spots movement among the trees for a moment. Sapnap follows his friend’s gaze, staring off into the dark in confusion.

The general shakes his head silently before clearing his throat. “Darryl Jeffron. We’ve received word of…” The general squints at him, one hand already on the handle of his sword. “your occupation a few years ago. I have order from the King to bring you to the capital. Resistance will only lengthen your sentence.”

The three stare at the general in confusion, but he goes on. “You two will receive reinforcements shortly. They should arrive to this outpost in a few days time, and you’ll be joined by a second group. We’ll escort you to the outpost.”

Two guards step out from the group. A whole guard patrol, armed and ready to go. Most of them seemed more curious and tired than alert, though. George exchanges a look with his two friends, seeing the horror on Bad’s face.

“Wait.” George cuts in. His mind is racing, but he has to do something, say something. He’s the only one they won’t cut down right away. “What do you mean, other occupation? He’s been with us for 3 years, and we have a gold order set in place!”

The two halt for a moment, and the general takes out a letter. “I have a direct order, if you’d like to see it, signed by general Artwood. I understand this must be a shock. But we must fight for truth and justice, and your co-guard is accused of three murders.”

George has no idea what he’s doing. The only thing he knows is that once his friend is in the clutches of the King, they won’t be getting him out again until he gets what he wants. “Accused by whom?”

“By credible sources.” The general’s patience was running out. George’s status wasn’t going to swim him through this much longer.

“No, that can’t… What credible sources? We’ve literally known him for years and we know he would never-”

“That's enough. I have a gold order of my own to fulfill, and that we will do. There will be more than enough time to bring your concerns to those in charge, young sir.”

George exchanges a glance with his two friends again. What else could he possibly say? He doesn’t doubt that the letter is real. The clan could’ve told the King anything just to get their revenge.

He could pull out more, but he’s never been the best at using his position. His sister is a lot better at that. She could probably talk her way out of this… Out of the corner of his eye, something glitters. He glances over briefly. Something sharp, like a small point… An arrow?

An arrow. He remembers the diamond blade about to sink into Bad, before an arrow brought the attacker down. There’s no way. They can’t take all of them.

But he knows they must be close to Dream. And he has, miraculously, helped them before. And he probably definitely hates guards enough to help them with this, but can they really take the whole group? There must be at least 7 guards here, plus the general. All with iron, though, and Bad is sporting two diamond shortswords at this point…

George is the one with the shield. He steps between Bad and the two guards. “Wait, I’d like to see the letter first, please. Then I’ll let you commence.”

The general hands him the letter, though not without a frustrated grumble. George casts his eyes down to pretend to read it. With Dream, as weird as that sounded, there’s four of them, two armed with diamond. Dream can probably snipe one guard from afar with his first shot, bringing them down to being up against 6 guards and the general. Maybe the confusion and chaos will be enough. Maybe not. His stomach churns, heart hammering in his throat.

One thing he knows for sure, he isn’t letting them take his friend away. 

As he looks up again, he glances back at Bad… who’s wide eyed, and looks into the dark to where George saw the arrow. George gives a small sigh, and then a tiny nod. Bad’s eyes only widen further, but his grip on the two swords tightens. Sapnap watches the exchange with a determined look, and George promises himself to apologize for taking over. Again.

George turns back. The general is close to him, but still keeping a respectable distance. That’s good. He isn’t wearing his helmet fully, probably to look more like an authority figure, showing his face. If Dream snipes anyone, it will be him. Or George. George gulps. 

Are they really going to do this?

He looks up at the general, who was clearly getting impatient, getting ready to step forward and grasp the letter out of Georges hands. 

They’re really going to do this.

He summons all of his bravery, and tears the letter in half right in front of the general’s eyes. 

Before the general has a chance to react, he draws his sword- only to find the general slumped over with an arrow in his neck. Oh, right.

Bad charges forward into the group, and Sapnap quickly joins them. The group is chaotic, and George sees Dream successfully separate two people from it, chasing them out into the woods. So four people they have to deal with.

Iron swords clash as George ignores his hammering heart and screaming conscience, internally begging the guards to run away. He misses a block, and his opponent gets the tip of his sword into George’s left upper arm. He grits his teeth, and slashes back. He still has to fight with everything he’s got.

Sapnap and Bad chase off their attackers before going to help George. The guard steps back before looking back and seeing himself surrounded. Sapnap is about to charge, but George stops him, letting the guard flee into the night.

George spots Sapnap bleeding at the side again, and Bad looks like he has blood on his outer thigh. Could be his. Or not.

They hear steps, and their attention snaps to the side. The moonlight illuminates the masked man eerily. Dream has bloodstains in his clothes, diamond sword laid lazily over his shoulder.

George tries not to think of what he probably did to those two guards.

The two sides stare each other down unsurely, weapons half-drawn, but not really.

Dream finally sighs, and George thinks he can hear a grin. “No ‘thank you for saving our lives’? Well, you’re welcome, by the way.”

The three glance between each other, wounded and unsure.

Dream eyes them suspiciously. “So what are you going to do now?”

George looks at him, then back at his friends. Sapnap shrugs, looking over to Bad. Bad just stares down onto the ground.

He turns back to Dream. “Why do you care?”

Dream tsks, pausing, shifting from one foot to the other. “Uh, because I wanna to know whether I need to keep running from you, or I should prepare to run from a new group? That’s kindof a big deal, y’know.”

George gives a stressed sigh. He’s so… overly confident! “Why are you even… here? Why did you help us?!”

“Because I’m a criminal, remember? Fuck the king, so fuck the guards he sends? I saw that patrol stomping over to you three, and thought, hey, I might wanna see this!” Dream lets out a laugh.

George squints, ignoring Dream’s word choice. “You didn’t just see it though.”

He dips his head to the side a little, grinning. “That’s true.”

George throws his hands up in defeat. “I don’t get it! We’ve been trying to kill you for two months and you decide to  _ help _ us, and the next moment you’re slaughtering innocent people for no reason! I don’t understand!”

Dream is quiet for a long moment. “Why do you care to understand, anyway? Why not just try and take me now?”

“You’re just going to run away again. It’s pointless. We don’t even… do we… still hunt him…?” George glances off to the others, who seem no better off. “I mean… they’re going to tell the King what happened.” He groans. “We’re in so much trouble.”

Dream nods to Bad. “And you’ll keep being in trouble unless you hand over Halo over there.”

Bad looks up, voice firm. “It’s Bad. Or... Darryl, I guess.”

George grasps his weapon and shield again, thinking. “We just have to convince them Bad is still a good guard. Which is, uh, not easy right now, but… maybe I can… I don’t know. I don’t know if my sis can talk us out of this.”

Dream laughs. “I doubt it. They’re not after him to punish him, they’re after him ‘cause Illumina wants him back. I heard the guards talking.”

George squints at him. “And why should we believe you?”

“Because I just saved your asses or something?”

“Yeah, why did you do that?”

“Because I hate the guards here even more than you do!”

“But  _ we’re _ guards!”

Dream looks at them curiously. “From what I get… not anymore.”

George stares back at him, at the expressionless mask lit by the moonlight. He thinks. Just think, George. 

Dream speaks up again before he can think of something to say, voice lower, more serious. “Okay, look.” Dream lets his sword swing downwards. “The guards from that outpost are after you now, too, just as much as they’re after me. There’s at least 45 more miles of wilderness ahead, not including the mountains, and I swear the outposts here can  _ breed _ .”

George stares back at him. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”

“I’m just saying, there’s an option here where nobody has to die and we all have the highest chances of survival. Look, I don’t like it either, but I know they’re doubling down on my case. Plus, you three have no idea how it is to be hunted, so I doubt you’d last on your own.”

“Our chances are still way higher than yours.”

Dream’s voice dips lower. “Are they?”

George goes quiet. Bad and Sapnap eye them both.

Sapnap finally speaks up. “Well, I think our chances are better when it’s just the three of us, anyway.”

Bad looks unsure, shifting from one foot to the other. “I don’t know. They really are on our heels right now. Illumina and the King both.”

George squints at Dream. “You could just kill us in our sleep.”

Dream sighs, slightly annoyed. “Yeah, okay, and then what? Die alone? I’m not a fan of that either. Besides.  _ You _ should know I hold my deals, shouldn’t you George?”

George bites down on the inside of his cheek, ignoring both his friends giving him a strange look.

A few more moments of silence pass.

Dream sheathes his sword away slowly, still undoubtedly watching them. “You can’t even go to the King to turn me in. I doubt you’d even get a reward after… whatever  _ that _ just was.” 

He pauses, letting his words sink in, continuing calmly. “You may seriously not make it out of this outpost nest alive on your own. And, and! You know my chances are a little worse, even, so I have no logical reason to backstab you. I wanna live as much as you do.”

George eyes him still. “We’re not sure if we’ll get killed on sight. Besides, how do you know we’d keep protecting Bad?”

“Because I know you three, believe it or not. I overhear a bit more than you might think.”

George looks to the others in question. Sapnap looks tense and unsure, axe still in hand, while Bad stands half-hidden behind George. 

Dream just nods. “I’ll let you talk it out. I’m in the area, but I’m sure you’ll find me if you need to.”

Dream turns, walking off through the trees, leaving the three of them alone.

Bad heaves out a held breath, swords still drawn. Sapnap stares off to where Dream just left.

Bad clears his throat a little, getting their attention. “Uh, I know this sounds like a super bad idea, but he has a point. The King’s probably after all of us right now.”

George glances between them and where Dream was just standing. “I hate to say this, but I can’t contact my sis from out in the woods. If they decide to, they can kill us here...”

Sapnap lets out a sigh. “This just feels like a terrible idea. I don’t like it, but if you two are sure...”

Bad shrugs. “Agreed, but what else do we do? I’m slightly surprised Dream doesn’t think he can get out of this on his own. I’m sure he could, then again, we’ve been running him down for a while now, so…”

The three exchange glances. George takes a deep breath. “Well, we’re gonna have to put some… rules into place. Limits. Something. We need to let him know we’re not just, immediately trusting him. And once we’re out of this place, I can go send a message, and we part ways, right?”

Sapnap shrugs. “Looks like it.”   
  


Bad nods a little, and the three turn to where Dream just left.

Oh boy.

\---

They find him near a small clearing, a small rocky cliffside jutting out skywards. He sits leaned against it until they approach, bathing in the moonlight. Dream jolts upwards, wary.

George speaks first, already having prepared what to say. “Fine. But,” he raises a finger to stop Dream from responding, “one, we leave with the most direct route out of the wilderness as possible. You were heading back to Dona, north-west, but moving north-east towards the capital brings us to civilization sooner. Two,” he adds a finger, “we part ways immediately once we’re out of this place. And three,” he adds a third finger, “we never speak of this again after that.”

Dream slightly tilts his head to the side, seeming to think. “Seems reasonable to me.”

George watches him, still suspicious. But if he agreed to their terms that easily, he either has a very good plan laid out, or he really does need help.

\---

They knew the awkwardness would be through the treetops, but that didn’t make it any easier.

The campfire crackles quietly. They all sit around it, Dream a good 6 feet away from the fire and anybody else, leaned against a tree. Nobody made any moves to start sleeping. George stares into the fire with his friends as they all wait to grow tired enough to let their guard down.

Quiet campfire nights always had something. After a difficult chase, or a scare, or a long day on the road, the three of them would quietly sit around the fire, refusing to sleep. They knew they should, but it always felt like their own way of cheating themselves some quiet, peaceful time together.

George is the first who starts feeling his head dip every now and then. 

Three head-dips later, Bad finally places a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “Go sleep. We’ll stay awake.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. Bad sits closeby, and before he knows it, he’s out like a light, leaned against his friend.

Sapnap helps Bad as they carefully lay George down into a comfortable position near the fire, laying his weapon and shield close. They both sit down again, guarding over him. 

Dream hasn’t moved, briefly glancing over only with his eyes to the scene in front of him. He’s busy looking at the sky, studying the stars.

\---

Dream is up before dawn, his inner clock paranoid enough to shake him awake just as the first rays of cold light touch the treetops.

He stirs, rubbing the back of his neck. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but hey, at least he’s alive to wake up this morning. Means he must’ve done  _ something _ right.

Three bodies lay curled up around the smoldering campfire, evenly rising and falling with each breath. Dream blinks, adjusting his mask before sitting up properly again. 

Bad wakes up second, blinking while scanning the camp. He rubs his eyes while Dream watches the sunrise through the trees. 

Bad stares Dream down for a moment. A few bated breaths later, he gets up and starts waking up the others.

\---

George is packing his travel pack, attaching a quiver of arrows to the side. He spots a bit of a familiar coat, moving to the other side of the clearing.

George flinches, panic rushing through him for a brief moment.

Dream gives him a quizzical look, shouldering his own bag. They had an intense discussion about which exact way to go in the morning, trying to judge the forest by the last remaining stars and Dream’s strange sense of direction.

“Still antsy?”

Of  _ course _ he couldn’t just keep his mouth shut. 

George answers dryly. “Yeah, wonder why that could be.” 

“Psh, you say that like I’d know.”

“Yeah, you know, I don’t think we band up with people like you very often.”

“We’re sitting in the same boat now, aren’t we?”

George gives him a deadly look, shouldering his pack with a bit of frustration. “We’re  _ nothing _ like you, you…! Delusional…!” George gestures angrily, unable to find the right word, and just waves it off.

Dream gives a small laugh, amused. “What’s the difference now?”   
  


George stares him down, the annoyance boiling over. “The difference? You’re a murderer! You kill people for a living!”

George can practically  _ hear _ Dream grinning slyly as he answers. “Don’t you, too?”

“That- that doesn’t change who you are!” George knows he’s being too loud. The others can probably hear at this point, but he can’t find it in himself to care. “ _ You _ bring harm to innocent people that did nothing to deserve it!”

George feels the atmosphere go ice cold, sees Dream stiffen a little, sees him lower his head slightly.

Dream pauses for a long moment before he answers, voice a hiss. “Oh, I know. You think harm only comes to people that  _ deserve _ it?”

George hadn’t heard him this angry before. He really shouldn’t have been trying to start something on the first day. “No, of course not, I just-”

Dream’s voice rises like a monster out of a dark ocean, growing to almost a roar. “What, and success  _ only _ to those who  _ earned _ it?” Dream grabs him by the collar, bringing him closer, highlighting the height difference. ”You think you DESERVE your pampered lifestyle!? You think you’ve EARNED IT?! You think that we live in slums and outskirts because we’re STUPID?!”

Suddenly he knows what this is about. He breathes out, voice weak. “I don’t think I deserve it at all.” 

Dream lowers him in a bit of surprise, allowing George to stand solid on the ground again. George goes on with a humourless laugh. “Maybe my sister does, or my father. But you… you know me, kindof. I’m a coward. I’m a bad fighter, I can’t lead people, I just… I never asked for this, either. I just want everyone to be better off.”

George looks down, watching Dream’s hands untangle from his clothes. “Why do you think I became a guard?”

Dream watches him silently, and George just shrugs. He wishes he could see Dream’s face, somehow judge what that did, or if it did anything at all.

Dream just stands there quietly. Bad and Sapnap stumble to a halt near them, casting concerning glances between the two. Dream just pockets his hands.

Bad remains alert. “We heard shouting.”

George shrugs it off, checking over his belongings. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. We should get going.”

\---

They travel in relative silence. Dream trails slightly behind, causing the others to frequently look behind their backs. He doesn’t react to it. At least, not in a way they could see.

Dream sometimes spoke up to suggest a slightly different route, or when they had to circle around an outpost. He insisted they moved slowly, but stealthy. If nobody notices they changed directions, that makes the search much harder.

\---

The campfire they make is smaller this time, to avoid being spotted. They’re just too close to an outpost to risk it.

Bad watches the food smolder over the dim fire. They’d considered not lighting a fire at all, but they needed to eat. Bad had taken on the task of smoking some food in advance while the other two are already asleep, curled up close.

Dream is on unofficial watch duty, scanning the forest with a sense of paranoia.

A twig snaps, and before Bad knows it, he watches a dead rabbit with a crossbow bolt through the middle falls out of the bushes.

Dream doesn’t say anything, but he does stay pointedly quiet as Bad watches him embarrassingly stand up and retrieve the arrow.

He sits near the fire, starting to skin the rabbit. If it’s dead already, they might as well use it.

Bad stays quiet, watching Dreams precise movements. He turns over the steaks he’s watching, making some space at the fire, and Dream tosses the rabbit to them with a low sizzle.

Dream sits down across from the fire, probably the closest he’s ever been to it. He continues to turn his head sometimes, staring off into the night with a held breath.

“You seem just a  _ little,  _ uh, on edge?”

Dream looks back at Bad, the mask illuminated in red light by the low fire. “Being hunted for a while does that to you.”

“Ah. Right.”

-

Dream chews on his lip, unable to bear the quiet any longer. “You left Illumina’s clan, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I was born into it, but… it just didn’t feel like my calling. Not what I wanted to do the rest of my life, yknow?” Bad shrugs a little. “Wanted to be… someone else.”

He was surprised Bad was answering him in the first place, but he seemed a bit more open to the idea of working together than the others. Dream had assumed he’d be more closed off due to being older than the other two. Not as impulsive. “But why a guard? Why for the King?”

“Psh, you know Illumina. He brushes shoulders with the King all the time. Wasn’t that far of a jump, and, I dunno. People say that’s better.”

“People? But _ you _ have to know that it’s not  _ that _ much better. You know they brush shoulders.”

Bad looks off dismissively to the side. “Well, maybe. But what do I know? I used to be one of the worst people out there. I think they know better.”

Dream points to the two sleeping bodies with his head. “They?”   
  


“Yeah.”

They go quiet again. Dream stares into the flames licking at the dark wood, lost in thought.

Bad gives him a small smile. “What about you?”

Dream looks up. “Me?”

“Yeah, well, you know my general story.”

Dream shrugs a little. “Nothing special.”

“Don’t wanna say?”

“Eh. Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

Dream shrugs again.

Bad starts pocketing the two steaks after salting them again, tossing two more onto the fire. Dream turns around his rabbit. Bad hands him the salt.

Bad watches him salt the rabbit, using the tip of his sword to work it into smaller pieces. “You’re a surprisingly calm team member.”

Dream raises a brow despite knowing Bad can’t see it. “Team member?”

“Yeah. You’re observant, but, you know, you let the others talk a lot too. I guess I didn’t think you’d do that.”

He laughs a little. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious! I’m not just saying that.”

“What are  _ you  _ trying to get on my good side for?”

“I’m not trying to get on your good side, I’m stating an observation. You don’t have to believe me.”

They keep making the food in silence. Dream finishes the rabbit, watching Bad finish the steaks while he looks up to the stars again. He waits until Bad is done, still deep in thought, before going to wake George to take over the nightshift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psa i have no idea how food works pls forgive me lmao-


	6. Chapter 6

Sapnap rounds the tree quickly, slamming his axe into the middle of the boar’s skull.

Dream lowers his crossbow, watching the boar drop. “A little messy, but not bad.”

Sapnap gives him a strange look, getting his axe out of the boar and starting to try and figure out how to haul it back. Dream squats down near him, helping him figure it out.

They’d both been tasked with hunting, but with a kill this big, that’s done for today.

Sapnap was undoubtedly the best to hunt large things with. He charged in almost fearlessly, strong despite his relatively young age. Brash, but active.

Dream guts the boar and they haul it back to camp, where Bad and George are both working on getting a campfire started. It took them two days of travel to get to an area where they could make campfires again.

They’d had a few very close calls, guided by Dream’s quiet and low voice, telling everyone exactly how to move. The first time they’d been grumpy about having to listen to him, but when it got them out alive from under the noses of two patrols, they calmed down somewhat.

George looks over, blinking. “What is  _ that? _ Are you guys serious?”

Bad sits there, wide eyed. “What the…?”

Dream finishes dragging it near the fire, sitting down to start gutting it up. “Relax. It’s a boar. We need food, so we got food.”

George goes over to get a closer look. “That’s… that’s not what I meant and you know it. We can’t even eat all of this.”

Dream goes on calmly. “We can salt and smoke it. And we don’t have to eat all of it.”

Sapnap shrugs. “I’d rather eat boar than rabbits. It’s close to pig, right?”

Dream nods while slicing through the flesh, careful not to make too much of a mess. “Yep.”

George shakes his head in disappointment. “Boars do  _ not _ taste like pig.”

Bad blinks. “Yeah they do.”

“No! They taste like boar. It’s a completely different thing.”

Sapnap huffs. “What, you wanna eat _ rabbits _ instead?”

“I’ll eat boar, I’m just saying that boar meat isn’t pig meat.”

Dream lets out a small laugh at their bickering. They’d gotten used to the fact that he’s easy to bring to laugh at this point. 

“Yeah, okay, rich boy. If we had to vote, we’d decide they were the same.”

George murmurs something to himself before getting back to making the fire. 

Dream stops for a moment, raising his head. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

  
  
  


\---

They had to sneak past another outpost.

Bad and Sapnap sat to the side, watching Dream and George aggressively strategize. Bad calmly chews on the last of his food, and Sapnap cleans his axe.

George stares at the haphazardly laid about plans, smears of charcoal clumsily drawing out a few sights around the outpost. “Okay, but if we go over the ledge and get caught, they’ll arrow us into the river.”

“They can’t. Not from the outpost. They’d have to move, and we’d be through by then.”

“I don’t know… Isn’t there any safer way? Are you sure we can’t just-, loop around it?”

“That would take us two days at best, and they’ll catch up to us during that time.”

“I don’t like this. What about the south side of the tower? There’s a path there.”

“They’re gonna see us. We can’t win a fight against a whole outpost.”

“Hmm…” George stares at the plans. The sun was setting quickly. They already agreed to move in the middle of the night for cover, so there was still time, but it certainly wasn’t going to be easy. “Okay, but like, we have to make sure nobody sees us on the way there. They have a good view of that too.”

Dream leans back over the plans. One of his hands are darker from the charcoal. “We can either go diagonally through the forest, or hug the cliffside. The growth near the river might continue.” He draws in the two paths.

George watches him. “It won’t continue up until the ledge. It’s a cliff for a reason, bushes don’t grow on cliffs. We have to come from the forest, and they’ll see us stalking over to the cliffside from a mile away.”

Bad and Sapnap continue to watch them discuss the plans. Sapnap gives a heavy sigh, murmuring quietly enough that only Bad can hear. 

“Ew, they sound like a married couple.”

Bad snorts, quickly clasping a hand over his mouth. Neither of the two notice, busy arguing over the density of the forest.

“I didn’t think  _ you _ would be the one saying that. I thought you still didn’t like him?”

“I don’t, and neither should you guys. I don’t see how that’s even on the table. I’m just stating a fact.”

“Yeah, well, I’m glad it’s going as good as it is. I’m pretty sure they’ll come up with something great.”

“Why aren’t you joining them?”

Bad shrugs. “George usually does these things, and Dream has been outsmarting us for a while now, sooo… I dunno.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

George finishes explaining something while Dream wordlessly shakes his head. “We can’t do that. We’ll definitely get caught, or at least  _ seen _ .”

“Well all of  _ your _ ideas are even worse!”

“Okay, fine!” Dream throws his hands up in defeat, tossing the piece of coal to the papers. He turns to where Bad and Sapnap are sitting. “Then we’ll get a second opinion. Going along the river ledge is better than sneaking over the patrol routes, right?”

George groans. “No, it’s not. Bad, tell him he’s wrong.”

Bad glances between the two. “Okay, one, I have no idea what you’re talking about right now. Two, I’m sure you two can do this better than us anyway.”

Dream lowers his hands, giving them what they assume to be a stern look. “No. Four heads are better than two.” 

Dream shifts, making some space at the campfire. Bad gives a glance to Sapnap, and moves to sit there. Dream looks at Sapnap for a long moment.

“What? I can sit there, but I can’t  _ strategize _ .”

“Why not? You might see something we missed.”

Bad watches with a bit of amusement as Dream convinces Sapnap to take a seat near the plans as well. So maybe he did take the ‘good team mate’ thing to heart.

Sapnap shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know, not my thing.”

“Says who?”

Sapnap lets out a rough laugh. “Uhh, have you met me? Hit first, ask questions later?”

Dream’s voice tells them he’s frowning. “You strategize when you fight.”

“Do I?”

“Of course you do. That’s why you’re a good leader in combat.”

Sapnap looks at him with a bit of surprise and confusion.

Dream continues. “You just have to learn not to seperate and run off first. But you’re a quick thinker when you fight. I mean, you have to be, because an axe gets less hits in. You gotta make them count.”

Sapnap looks down on his axe, unsure what to think. “Eh. It’s just easier to rush in with.”

“Oh come on. I’m the most wanted man in the kingdom right now, you think the King went like, yeah, sure, let’s send some random group of idiots?”

The three are quiet, casting around glances.

Dream blinks at them behind the mask. “You know you’re really good fighters, right?”

George looks off into the fire. “Maybe Bad and Sapnap are.”

“Are you serious? You’re a strategizer, your aim is really good, and your pain tolerance is insane. Bad, you’re literally a former clan member, and I’m almost sure at this point the King knew that, just Illumina didn’t. And the quality of your group dynamic is that you’d literally die for each other.”

Bad shrugs. “We’re not that great. I mean, we’re just doing our job.”

“Okay, okay. Me aside. You took that group of guards, right? Four adult, middle aged, armored, kitted out guards with a good night of rest against the three of you? Who ran away into the woods after 10 minutes becuase they didn’t want to  _ die _ ? And you’re trying to tell me you’re just  _ average? _ Is that it?”

They grow quiet. George looks at the scribbled out plans. “I guess I never thought of that.”

Dream lets out a heavy sigh. “No shit.”

Bad cuts in. “Language.”

Dream gives him a silent look, and Bad holds his gaze stubbornly. Dream lets out a small laugh, easing the tension again.

Sapnap still sits a bit tense. He’d not let go of his axe ever since Dream joined them, and something in him continued to stubbornly resist acting as if everything is fine. George tries to supress a grin at Dream’s stupid, contagious laugh, still deeply wondering how someone so cruel can be so… normal.

Together, they begin figuring out the plan well into the night.

\---

  
  


Dream sits crouched low in the undergrowth, his green tinted clothes hiding him well. 

His mask hides his expression, his mouth pulled into a focused but excited smile. His body is gearing up for their mission, adrenaline running through his blood like it’s done a million times before.

Sapnap and George are somewhere near, crouched low, waiting for him to move.

His eyes gaze through the trees towards the rough stone of the tower, looming into the dark night. Fiery lantern lights decorate the cobbled walls, illuminating arrow slits and the colorful banner of the kingdom of Rua.

Dream isn’t used to fighting with a team in his back. If he were on his own, he’d have taken the risk long ago, and he wouldn’t have to watch out for anyone. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes still wish he was on his own.

But then there were the slow campfire nights, low orange light keeping him awake while he watched George and Sapnap murmur-bicker about something while falling asleep. Then there were times where he was tired from the trip, where all he had to do was stab a boar, drag it back, and take a nap while the others made the food.

He started dreaming again, too, now that his body was beginning to lean into the feeling of falling asleep with somebody watching over him. They were weird, blurs of colors and absurd combinations of concepts, but dreams nonetheless.

The sound of an arrow thunking into the tree above him woke him out of his thoughts abruptly. It came from the right. It’s time.

He gives another glance around, and starts to approach the edge of the forest. The trees begin to thin out towards the tower, a few fallen logs indicating that the clearing was human-made. He stops behind a dense bush.

The guard tower looms above, and he hears the quiet shuffles of George and Sapnap somewhere behind him. They’re staying spread out, just barely close enough to hear each other move.

Dream waits, every single muscle in his body tensed and ready to go. 

His eyes scan the night expertly, planning out the area before him to have an idea where to go once it was time. 

A sharp, unfamiliar shout rings through the night. As he hears guards move in their armor and angry torchlights shift the shadows around, he begins to move.

Darting out into the night, crossbow loaded and ready, he runs left and for the cliffside.

Any ordinary man, as much as life may call for it, would’ve faltered at the sight before him. Any stronger one would have hesitated.

All Dream did was take a deep breath before swinging his legs over the edge and starting to climb the stone cliff sideways.

He can feel his mind racing, hands grasping at the cold, wet rocks, feet firmly digging into small dents and rough surfaces. His heart hammers in his chest, but that doesn’t stop him in the slightest.

The dark of the night covers him well against the dark rocks. The river rushes loudly in his ears. He has to force himself to stop every few seconds to glance back, to check if everything is going as planned instead of listening to his internal terror, screaming at him to hurry.

He loses his footing for a split second - to be expected on that kind of climb - but his heart still lurches in his chest, a feeling of dread washing through his whole body.

He continues, every step a little lighter, every grasp a little more confident as he nears the other side. He still has to make his way upwards.

He urges himself onwards, the strength in his arms slowly beginning to falter, forcing himself to stay calm. 

Miraculously, he pulls himself on top of the cliff with trembling arms. He heaves a breath when he finally sits again.

Without much time to relax, he quickly gets up and darts for cover. And prays.

He lets out a relieved breath. They were right about this part of the layout.

He spots four archers crouched at the side of the tower, ready to shoot anybody who tries to walk the cliff edge between the tower and the river below. 

He’s only supposed to be a distraction, but…

He loads his crossbow, aims at one archer who has his back turned, and shoots.

He watches the body slump over with a deep twist of satisfaction, letting out a low, rough laugh to himself. The other three panic and immediately turn to where the arrow came from, searching the night for Dream.

Dream loads another arrow, setting it on fire this time. He aims for the sky and sends it high over the tower in a beautiful curve, getting lost somewhere in the forest, undoubtedly spotted by the two ex-guards waiting for the signal on the other side.

Arrows begin to head for him and he moves deeper into the forest. There would normally be more archers than this on post, but the current under-staffing was going to make this possible in the first place.

One of the archers shot up to leave and alert the guards, and Dream sniped him into the side with a lucky shot. He blocked another arrow with his shield, but his next shot went into a stone wall. He had to aim weirdly high to get over the archer cover, and his next arrow doesn’t seem to hit anything important either. 

He looks to his side to see himself undoubtedly starting to run out of arrows. He sends another shot, but the two remaining archers retreated low and professional behind their covers, fully focused on him. 

A sharp jolt of pain tells him an arrow grazed his side harshly. He hisses and presses one hand to the wound, the other holding his shield firmly. Just as he wonders whether they missed the signal, he spots the first figure making their way over the cliff edge. 

He can’t go low now. If he does, the archers will look around again and spot them. And then his new, so called team-mates are fishbait.

He groans as he ignores his side and loads his crossbow again. Five more arrows. He shoots, getting an arrow dangerously close to where an archer just was just a second before.

Another arrow flies for his face, and he ducks away quickly. Sapnap and George are pressed to the tower now, waiting to run the last bit of clearing, the last stretch before they reach the safety and cover of the forest.

Dream lights another arrow on fire. He curses as he manages to burn one of his fingers, but sends the arrow into the group of archers.

He watches one of the wood panels start to catch fire with satisfaction as George and Sapnap finally make a run for it. He starts to run deeper into the forest just as they reach him.

Bad is still on the other side. Looping around somewhat, they approach the forest-side of the tower, a sparse stretch of trees between the tower and yet another cliff, jutting upwards.

Dream sends another fire-arrow over the tower in a high arch. Signal two.

He hears Sapnap and George draw their weapons. They follow Dream towards the commotion. They’re risking a lot by getting this close, but he has to make these arrows count.

He holds his breath as he moves in even closer, hearing the guard shouts, almost able to make out what they’re saying. 

A guard spots him, about to open his mouth before an arrow hits him straight to the skull. 

That’s one. Dream loads his last arrow as he backs off, hearing some voice of authority call attention over to them.

He curses as his last arrow goes flying, missing the first guard that was approaching them. Well. There goes that.

He draws his sword, and prepares to fight.

Two, no, three guards rush him as he stands at the front, and he barely manages to block all of them. He forces his body to move, to fight despite his exhaustion, nimbly dodging swinging swords.

He blocks a slash and manages to stab one of the guards, only to see two more running towards him.

He grits his teeth, blocking another swing as he’s forced to back off. Bad better hurry. He spots George and Sapnap fighting back to back, but also quickly getting surrounded.

“Back off a bit!”

They turn to him at his shout and comply as they all move back, the guards hot on their heels. 

Dream turns with a start, catching his first pursuer off-guard and slamming his sword out of his grasp. George and Sapnap follow his example immediately, diving back into the fight with less attackers coming at them at once.

“Whatever you do, don’t let them -” Dream blocks an iron axe with his shield - “surround you!”

He doesn’t know how much his shout into the night is heard, but Sapnap is the first to turn and run again. Dream and George follow.

Probably for the better, too. Dream had gotten so focused on his own fight that he barely escapes the group of guards this time, watching Sapnap slam a guard to the side to allow George to briefly escape as well.

So Sapnap really might be getting better at staying focused on the whole situation. Huh. 

Dream tucks the thought away for later and turns back to fight again.

What felt like ages and multiple bleeding wounds later, they hear a familiar shout in the forest, and they immediately turn and flee.

Running out into the dark of the night, Dream can hear guards chase after them, occasional arrows hitting dangerously close.

Pushing down his relief to keep himself running, he navigates the forest, listening to George and Sapnap running somewhere near him. They made it. He can’t believe they actually made it. 

As the night quietens down and the adrenaline leaves his body, he lets out a disbelieving laugh. 

They actually made it.

\---

Bad tends to George’s right arm, quietly telling him he should’ve been more careful while George just lets out a stubborn murmur. Sapnap is trying to bandage his own leg, determined to get it right.

Dream watches them from where he is, pain still stinging his side. He’s pulled off his coat, jacket and shirt, finishing washing off the arrow graze on one side and the shallow stab on the other.

Sapnap lets out a frustrated huff, deciding to wait for Bad or George to help him. “Man. I can’t believe we just did that. That’s gotta be a record or something.”

George is grinning despite the situation, relief making them all giddier than usual. “I don’t think anybody’s done that yet, did you see how shocked they were? We had, what, three seperate distractions? They didn’t see any of it coming!”

Bad finishes securing the bandage on George’s arm, moving over to Sapnap. “Yeah! It was a really good idea to scout out the cliff beforehand, George.”

George just grins even wider. “I know! But, I mean, you scouted it out, Bad. You’ve got the best memory out of all of us.”   
  


“Aww, shucks.” Bad gives him a throwaway hand gesture, and Dream lets out a small laugh at the sight. 

They go quieter at the sound. Dream knows he still isn’t quite as welcome, thinks that maybe he should’ve suppressed the sound so they weren’t reminded that it isn’t just the three of them anymore. 

He wrings out the sponge and places it back into its bag, getting out another bandage for his side. At least he’ll only have to wrap it once, with how the wounds were pretty similar in positioning on each side.

Bad continues wrapping up Sapnap’s leg, side-eyeing Dream for a moment. “So you really managed to scale that cliff, huh?”

Dream shrugs a bit. He isn’t really out for compliments. “Yeah, I did, like I said I could,  _ George _ .”

George lets out a giggle, staring Dream down with a satisfying grin. “I knew it. You’re gonna do  _ anything _ if somebody challenges you to do it.”

Dream plays up an offended tone. “Yeah, well, I made it!”

George tries to suppress some of his laughter, but to little avail. 

They go quiet again, though the atmosphere feels lighter this time.

Dream hmms for a moment before talking. “Sapnap, you made a good call when we fought back there.”

“Huh? When?”

“Second time we pulled back during the fight.”

“Oh. I guess so, I just saw we were getting in trouble.”

Dream just nods, his voice optimistic. “You did.”

-

Sapnap watches Bad finish bandaging his leg, tying up the ends tightly. He gives his friend a thankful smile before moving to sit a bit more comfortably. He stares at the bandage in thought, trying to figure out what he’s feeling.

Well, of course, it’s not  _ nothing _ to get praised by Dream, of all people. So it’s normal that would… affect him, right?

Then again, what reason does Dream have to do that other than to butter him up? He’s smart. And an insanely good fighter. And strategizer. Is there something he’s not good at, dammit!

Then again… maybe he does mean it. Some form of pride flows through him at the thought. 

As stubborn as he wants to be, he’s not blind. Dream has been a good team member even if he hates to admit it. He’s been subtly directing the group to help them all survive during the entire time he’s been with them. He doesn’t have to help them this much, but he does.

Sapnap leans against the tree, hearing the others talk, but just closes his eyes and lets the rustling of the trees up top drown out the voices. Sometimes he wishes he weren’t stuck here like this.

Sometimes he wishes he weren’t stuck here, licking up to the generals and the king and whatnot to make sure he can keep sending money back. Sometimes he wishes he could just throw it all down the drain, leave everything behind to carve out his own place. To really show himself. To really prove what he can amount to, instead of caving to his generals every whim to get a stupid promotion.

He wants to fight, dammit. He wants to get better. And watching Dream tear through everything he touches with ease brings all of those childish wishes back to the surface. In a way, it must be freeing, to live that kind of life. 

He glances over to the masked man, still shirtless as he finishes wrapping his wounds. The mask sits firmly on his face. 

It’s not fair. Dream came in here to be with them, convinced all of his friends that this is a good idea, outran them for two months beforehand and they’re all _ still _ mildly terrified of him. But something about him radiates respect, radiates confidence and ease. Despite the horrifying mask, something about him seems strangely simple and trustworthy. 

Sapnap looks out into the dark forest. Dream barely has to try.

Always seen and out of reach, like the setting sun on the horizon. He doesn’t even have to try to be known. He just goes around, doing his thing, and wherever he goes people recognize him.

Sometimes he wishes he could’ve just been more like Dream. Fearless, flawless, and absolutely limitless. 

-

George finally comes down from his emotional high, calming down while chewing on some boar jerky that they prepared beforehand. He still can’t believe his plan worked. Well, it was half his plan. The other half was Dream. And, of course, all four of them pulled it off. Somehow.

They’re all out of arrows, though, even if it was worth giving all of theirs to Dream and Bad to pull them through this. 

He knows this outpost. He doesn’t quite remember the name, exactly, but he has heard of it in rumors. Supposedly, the outpost is unbeatable, meant to be able to hold back a small army if need be. The mountain passage, the cliffsides, the river - they all add up to make the perfect choke point. 

George thinks. It’s probably this outpost Dream was so afraid of, too. He certainly knows it exists, and with how the mountains are laid out, they had to have passed it anyway. The only other way to Dona is passing close by the capital or looping all the way back the way he came.

He spots Sapnap deep in his own thoughts while Bad rummages through their bags for something to eat. His eyes drift to Dream, busy bandaging himself. Notable but lean muscle hugs his limbs, giving him a solid appearance. Scars pull themselves over most of his body, visible despite the low light.

Dream is busy cutting the bandages with his diamond sword, refusing Bad’s suggestion to use a pocket knife instead. The sword casts those little white light specks all over the place again, reminding him of the night in the infirmary. The moonlight is low, so the specks are tiny spots, ghosts of what they were that night.

George’s thoughts stutter for a moment, watching the cold moonlight soften over Dream’s skin, watching him intently focus on his bandaging. How does he even see through that mask? But he has to, somehow, because George is certain he looks focused. Something about his posture, about the careful movements of his hands.

He bandages himself as if he’s done it a million times before. Despite the low, cold light, he can see his hands working away at their task with precision and an air of calmness. He’s so… calmly  _ confident _ . 

George wonders briefly whether Dream even knows what fear  _ is _ , until he’s reminded of that slightly shaking voice laying out his options, trying to tell him what to do, trying to convince him to keep him alive. To accept his so-called ‘deal’.

But what kind of madman, knowing fear, would scale a wet cliffside above a deadly river? Not that they had much of a choice. He doesn’t know if Dream knows - maybe he doesn’t - but George had snuck close enough to watch. Had wanted to be there, to watch him hesitate, maybe even back down.

And instead he watched him slide down the angled cliff as if he was climbing a sloping hill. Like it was nothing. Were his hands shaking at the time? George doubts Dream would answer him if he asked, but that same curiosity in him is desperate to know. 

If Dream noticed George was staring, he didn’t show it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -George said something along the lines of “well good thing only my vote would matter” but yknow, oof
> 
> -Dream, probably: I’m SURROUNDED by INSECURE IDIOTS


	7. Chapter 7

They had to keep moving.

They tiredly limp through the forest, Sapnap and George both slower than usual due to their wounds. 

Dream can’t help himself. “What, not used to being on the run?”

Sapnap throws Dream a look for a comment, but Dream just lets out a laugh. Internally, he’s glad for the slower pace, still clutching his sides.

They keep walking a few more hours, though Dream noticed Sapnap started limping behind more. Bad stayed at his side, but Sapnap refused to lean on his friend for support, gritting his teeth and fighting on. 

Somewhere around midday, sleep deprived and exhausted, Dream hears a thud somewhere behind him.

He swirls around and sees Sapnap just barely half-caught by Bad while Sapnap lets out a wince of pain. George goes to his friend’s side while Dream watches with some worry.

He looks up. The sun is just barely past the highest point. They have miles more that they need to travel before they’re anywhere near safety.

Bad and George help Sapnap sit down despite his protests. Dream scans the forest, but they seem to be alone for now, despite lagging behind schedule.

Sapnap groans. “It’s fine, just… five minutes. Five minutes and then I’ll… be fine.”

His voice sounds pressed and forced, his breathing shallow. His hands tremble a bit as he clutches his one leg with a hiss.

It really doesn’t look good.

Bad starts investigating the bandages, tapping here and there as Sapnap flinches in pain.

Dream already knows what Bad is going to say before he says it. “We have to rest… I have to check if it started bleeding again. We might be better off if we stitch it just to be sure.”

Dream just nods. He gestures Bad to move to the side. “Go find a better camping place, preferably close to water.”

He crouches down and then picks Sapnap up with some effort, who groans in annoyance.

“I don’t need to be CARRIED! Let me down! I said I’m FINE!”

Dream looks at the other two. “George, Bad.”

George rolls his eyes at his friend before heading off with Bad.

Dream keeps walking, making his slow way through the forest. Just keep moving. They’ll get away as long as they just keep moving, even if it’s slow.

They set up camp only hearing-distance from a small stream, where Dream sets down Sapnap against a tree. He hates lowering himself while his sides are hurting, but they have to keep moving.

They can’t start a campfire, but luckily Bad can work in the light of day this time, aided by George.

Dream sits, watching them inspect the wound.

George hmms. “We should definitely stitch this. Bad, see how the blood pooled here?”

“Yeah… rats, we should’ve checked over everything again when it was day. We had to bandage ourselves in the dark.”

“It’s fine. Just give me the stitching supplies.”

Bad hands his friend what he needs as George starts to stitch the wound shut. Sapnap grits his teeth hard, but not hard enough to stop a pained sound from escaping. Dream looks around their bags briefly, and then hands Sapnap a piece of wood.

Sapnap groans. “Why does it hurt so MUCH! Isn’t it usually better? George, dude, fuck, do we really need to stitch it? I swear…” His breathing goes quick as he bites down on the piece of wood Dream handed him. Dream can see a bit of water glinting in Sapnap’s eyes. He really is in pain.

George forces himself to continue. The faster he finishes, the faster his friend will be out of pain. “We have to. Don’t be such a baby, you’ll be fine.”

Sapnap just lets out another whine. Stitches are horrible, definitely, but something about the way he flinches makes Dream uneasy. 

From the worried and antsy looks of the others, he isn’t the only one.

\---

As much as they hated it, they had to stop for the entire rest of the day. They stock up their water supplies, food supplies, clean their weapons, sharpen their weapons. And wait for Sapnap to slowly recover enough to keep going.

As night begins to fall, Bad tries to help Sapnap up. Sapnap grits his teeth again, determined, but it’s no use.

When Sapnap unwillingly has a tear flowing down his face, they’re forced to stop, and accept that they’ll have to stay the night as well. 

George sits down near him to check if he ripped any stitches as carefully as possible. Sapnap just looks away, gritting his teeth.

Dream watches Bad make a low fire, sitting near it.

Dream doesn’t look at Sapnap when he talks. “Make sure you get a lot of sleep. Your body repairs itself in its sleep the most.”

Sapnap grumbles something in response, watching Dream from the side.

They all grow quiet again. The atmosphere is tense and filled with a sense of anxiety. They’re behind on their plans. Dream knows that being caught up to is likely at this point, but he doesn’t know when it’s going to happen. Just that it must be soon. Too soon. He shifts in place nervously, hands fiddling with the handle of his sword.

Bad’s look is unusually grim, often casting glances back into the forest area they came from. It had grown a little warmer again as they were nearing the wilderness on the other side of the mountains, but still not warm enough to be comfortable.

George sits with his shoulders hunched over, nervously glancing left and right.

It only gets worse as night starts to fall.

Sapnap finally falls asleep, probably the most exhausted out of all of them. He certainly doesn’t need three people awake staring at him, but none of the others are able to get any shut-eye.

The silence is awful. Dream finally leaves his sword alone and fiddles with the strum of his crossbow instead, focused on the feeling of string on his fingertips. 

He already feels like the others regret their more accepting attitude towards him after they passed the outpost together. That’s fine, he tells himself. It was to be expected. 

Some part of him continues to wish for the quiet of being alone. It’s not much of a difference if he sits alone in a tree or with three people that will never trust him an inch. Some part of him thought that it would be good to have company, and in a way, it is. But is that really worth the risk?

He thinks of just splitting, now.

His hunters, no, his former hunters will definitely stay with Sapnap. They’ll be fine. Wait. Why is that even important? He started that thought thinking about how that means they won’t chase after him.

It’s better for one out of four to survive instead of nobody, after all. 

But Dream doesn’t get up and leave. He sits and stares at the smouldering fire, fiddling with his crossbow. He just doesn’t want to leave this place alone. Not again.

With a grim feeling of defeat, he knows that they’ve grown on him. He’d overestimated himself, been alone for too long, underestimated how much he needed to think there were people out there who trusted him. People who thought he was okay.

Not that any of them think that, but this is as close to that feeling as he’ll ever get.

Bad moves to sit near the fire as well, giving up on trying to sleep. Dream doesn’t lift his head, blinking away his own exhaustion.

“I was wondering,” Bad starts, making Dream lift his head ever so slightly. “You’ve got to have a clan or family in Dona, right? I mean, as allies, at least.”

Dream looks back at the low glow of the charcoals. “Why do you ask.”

Bad shrugs a bit, though still tense. “Just curious. You don’t like talking about yourself, but you know a lot about us.”

Dream stares at the dark glow, giving everything an eerie appearance. “No.”

“...No what?”

Dream chooses his words carefully, contemplating them before he talks. “I don’t have anybody close to me in Dona. Just allies.”

George watches the two talk from where he sits, glancing between the two quietly.

-

Bad gives him a look, but Dream doesn’t react to it. “Come on. If we wanted to hurt you, we would have already done that. You don’t have to talk about anything incriminating or anything we could use against you.”

“You think there’s something I could say that could bring us closer?”

Bad hmms. “I do.”

George shifts audibly, and Bad glances over. The tension had been getting them all on edge, despite Bad trying to strike up small talk to diffuse the situation. Bad sighs softly.

“Dream, I know there’s something good in you, whether you like it or not.” Bad states it as a fact, trying to sound assuring and confident.

Dream lifts his head to look up, masked and unreadable.

-

George gives them both a stare, and Dream notices out of the corner of his vision.

He stares back down at the coals. “Your friend doesn’t seem to agree.”

Bad glances over to George silently. George takes a soft, deep breath. He definitely wants to bring up every single time Dream was cruel to them, but now’s not the time. 

“You don’t know that.”

Dream gives George a look, and George holds it stubbornly. Bad gives George a curious glance, not having expected that response.

Dream gives a quiet  _ hah _ , and they can hear the bitter smile on his face. He looks back down into the light, a place to keep his eyes when they had nowhere else to go.

George shuffles closer to the fire to sit. “Bad is a good person now. You could be more like him.”

Dream’s head snaps upwards harshly, though his voice is rising only slowly. “You think anybody who serves the king is good? You still think you’re better than everyone else for being loyal to him?”

This conversation again. Whenever they tread too closely, it comes back up again, the same sore spot that they didn’t have a solution for yet.

George is desperately trying to keep the frustration out of his voice with no avail. “So you think Bad is just like you or what? He’s better, you know.”

Dream is quiet for a moment, voice cold when he speaks. “We just follow different goals.”

“And what could your goal possibly be? Chaos? Anarchy? A high body count?”

Dream’s hands clench together into fists. “This is exactly why the king found it so easy to use you. Everyone’s either an angel or hell incarnate to you.”

Bad tries to cut in. “Guys, we shouldn’t-”

George cuts him off. “No! And the king wasn’t using us! He was paying us for work we did for him! We could’ve quit at any moment.”

Dream looks up and they both stare at each other in silence. Bad sighs softly.

“Guys… now’s not the time to argue.”

The two continue to stare. George squints at him. “Are you even sorry? For everything you’ve done?”

Dream can feel his blood go cold, voice bitter and sharp. “No.”

Before he can elaborate or say anything else, George gets up sharply. Bad calls after him, softly as to not wake Sapnap. George just grabs his bow, sword, shield, and leaves.

A long moment of silence settles over the clearing.

Bad gives a defeated sigh, sitting back down near the campfire. “So… your family’s not in Dona, then? Where are they?”

Dream knows he sounds bitter, and right now, he doesn’t care. “Nowhere. Your loved ones have a tendency to die when the king wants your head.”

A tense, unspoken conversation lies heavily on their shoulders.

Dream knows he probably should’ve stayed quiet, but George always managed to either brighten up the whole forest or completely piss him off. How can he be so blind? How can he look at the death penalty and the injustices his family so obviously causes and think he’s on the right side of history? How can he defend the man they’re all literally running away from together? 

Dream stares at his pale fingertips. He did what he had to do. He had to survive. Nobody can blame him for wanting to survive, and it’s not his fault this kingdom is kill for the king or kill for yourself. 

It’s not his fault. He watches his fingertips tremble slightly in the low light. There was no other way. They deserve it. Nothing is fair. 

He keeps repeating it to himself, the mantra he’d lived by since his family first crossed the king.

-

When George comes back, Bad is on the night shift, the campfire already dark. Dream is curled up not too far away from it, his chest softly rising and falling under the moonlight.

George looks at him for a long moment, considering what would happen if they just killed him now. He’s not even sorry. How can’t he regret anything? How can he just… live like this? Sleep soundly like this? 

George stares at him and hates himself for eavesdropping. For staying in earshot in fear of stumbling onto a patrol alone, or not being there if they’re ambushed.

_ Your loved ones have a tendency to die when the king wants your head. _

He shivers unwillingly.

He tries to keep his voice soft. “Bad? I’ll take the next shift, I can’t sleep anyway.”

Bad just gives him a tired nod, curling up right where he is and falling asleep almost immediately.

George sits down, his back leaned against a tree as he guards over Dream and his friends in the dark of the night, accompanied only by the moon and Bad’s soft, gentle snore.

-

The cold night drags on as George hugs his own knees. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here, but the night isn’t over yet, so it must’ve not been that long.

The forest feels eerie, as if time itself stopped to a halt - and now he’s going to sit here in the dark forever - until the cold slowly crawls into his skin, and the quiet forest forgets he ever existed.

George stares up at the stars, tiny speckled lights among the dark outlines of the treetops. It makes him think of family nights when he was younger, when they’d be watching their cooks work over the fires and prepare their food warm for them. When he breathes in and closes his eyes and thinks of the scene hard enough, he can almost smell the scent of sweet wine and freshly served desserts, lightly crusted meat and sour salads that his father would complain about.

On the horizon he could almost see the high stone wall, decorated with carvings of the symbol of Ravenburg to distract from the fact that they had to wall themselves off in the first place. 

Beyond that wall, they would say, are the bad people. The people that steal and beat people up and spit in their faces. There are also the good people, that work and pay their taxes and that need them, need their support, need his family. But you can never tell who is who, so he must always stay behind the wall.

Though he thinks of himself as knowing his family well, right now, miles and miles away, he lets them all blur together into one. They’re faceless in the distant memory of his childhood years, filled with scented smoke and laughter and clothes that would glitter lowly in the light and would be tight around his frame. 

He remembers the feeling of his mother’s silk sleeves when he was barely old enough to leave their mansion. He would hold onto her for support when meeting their distant relatives, other families from different cities, some from the capital.

His father would always scold him for it, and at some point he wasn’t allowed to anymore.

He also wasn’t allowed to go beyond the walls on his own. He remembers all the warnings, his parents stepping agitatedly over the wood floor outside his room, their voices drowned out by the dark oak. They would scold him and fuss and insist he take his guards with him at all times.

He liked his guards. They seemed nice, even if they were a bit rough with others sometimes. They seemed to respect him, and he appreciated that in them, in the quiet way they learned that he didn’t like them treating other people roughly. They would insist on keeping all conflicts on the low, especially once George got older and voiced his concerns. 

But he wanted out. 

Not that he minded the paperwork as much as some of his cousins did. His mother still calls him a born writer, fondly hoping one day he’ll return home, toss his iron sword to the side and become the perfect young lord they want him to be. That, maybe, he also wanted to be in the past.

George pulls the cold night air into his lungs before sighing, watching the soft white cloud gather not far from his lips. 

And oh, how horribly, horribly wrong he was.

How cold and uncomfortable the hallways around him began to feel the more often he stepped out into the real world. How bad he would feel, for having to turn his back over and over again because they insisted there was nothing he could do.

Maybe, with the paperwork, by becoming the heir his father wanted him to be, he could’ve improved people’s lives more than this. He could be there, a young man now, fighting his relatives every step of the way. He would eventually gain total power of the few small villages they own, and be able to gradually use that power for good.

And he didn’t.

A part of him likes to think it’s because he dreamed of something bigger, something more substantial. That he would go out there, and inspire people, to change more than just his tiny speck on the map. 

A different part of him knows that his fear was a much bigger reason.

He doesn’t have to face his parents’ disappointment, out here in the woods. He can pretend they don’t exist, and maybe they pretend that he doesn’t exist when his sister complains about the paperwork and having to be the new heir. He wonders if they still only listen to her halfheartedly, how they did before, making George cut in and insist they take her into full account. And for that, his sister would talk him through things that he had no idea how to talk his way out of.

He’ll have to come crawling back now, and as much as he hates it, it’s very much necessary. And he will. For his friends, he’d face his parents a hundred times and tell them anything right to their faces. This is what he became a guard for.

He became a guard to learn how to fight. To leave those walls behind on his own, to escape the scrutinizing gaze of his parents and his relatives and his advisors. To go out there and be someone else, not just the quiet, good son sitting at the candle-lit table working on taxing regulations.

He left promising himself to return a better fighter than his mentor, an older man with battle scars and a lot of respect among his ranks. He wanted to return some kind of hero. Instead, he has this, whatever this is.

_ Your loved ones have a tendency to die when the king wants your head. _

He shivers.

There was a time where he thought his family deserved their possessions, that it was simply their role to play, and if the bad people would stop existing, everything would be perfect. If they would just vanish. His father insisted the death penalty is the only solution to it. The only thing that keeps people in line, and George continues to grow cold at the thought.

Not just that it exists. But at the thought that there was a time where he didn’t know any better and wanted to believe his father wholeheartedly. 

It made sense, back then. His whole world made sense, until he started getting older and it gradually stopped making any sense at all. 

He wanted the world to be better, yet he ran away from the power gifted to him by his bloodline. He’s out here diving head first into potentially deadly bloodshed, yet he’s too afraid to face his family. He swore himself to do anything it takes to rise upwards, but the only thing he’s done is quietly tag along and fill his role.

And Dream…

The more he finds out, the more difficult it is to hate him, and the more difficult it is to hate him, the more he wants and fails to hate him.

Of course he’s mad at him, and he stubbornly believes he has every right to be. He’s killed people.

George’s shoulders hunch up. His father has killed people.

But something in him knows that Dream isn’t doing this for no reason. He just doesn’t seem like the kind of person to do that. In fact, out of everyone, Dream seems the most likely to follow a purpose, a firm belief that he holds true to. He isn’t just doing this for fun.

He knows Dream holds a special place of hatred in his heart for nobles and royalty, and at least that George can understand (despite his own roots). He also knows Dream doesn’t hesitate to kill, but from his perspective, neither does the royalty he despises so much.

And ordinary people? How do they fit into his worldview? Does he hate them, too, for having things Dream doesn’t have, a family, a home, a peaceful life? Is it jealousy? Revenge? Is Dream really one for revenge?

It can’t really be greed, George has concluded. He steals, sure, maybe a bit more than he needs. But if it were greed, he wouldn’t hate the king so much. He wouldn’t have protected Bad.

George knows that the king has another type of army, apart from his official guard, called hunters. Surely, if Dream really tried, he could get into them. But if there’s one thing he knows about him, then it’s that Dream would rather die than join the king, no matter how much comfort and gold and whatnot that would give him.

George looks at his hands.

So then, is it jealousy? Why is George trying so badly to come up with a reasoning for Dream’s actions? Why is he so curious about how he thinks? Why does he want to know?

George clenches his fists.

Something stirs.

He snaps his gaze to the direction where it came from, watching Dream stir and grumble something under his breath. Speak of the devil, or well, think of him. The sky is already slowly softening into a slightly lighter shade of blue, although it would be another half hour till sunrise at least.

A moment later, Dream shoots up, mask already in place. He looks over at George, and George thinks he can sense some sort of confusion in him before Dream’s posture relaxes again. He hears him sigh, and lay back down defeatedly.

“Why are you up?”

Dream turns to face him. “Instinct.”

George pulls his face together. “What?”

“Instinct. I’m used to getting up before sunrise. Habit of mine.”

“Yeah, a habit, that’s not instinct.”

“Isn’t it?” There’s something amused in Dream’s voice. “I didn’t plan to wake up, I just did.”

George tries to keep himself cold and serious, though his voice betrays him a little. “That’s still not instinct.”

Dream murmurs something to himself in response and sits up again, stretching this time.

George continues to stare into nothingness for a moment longer before finally finding his voice.

“Dream.”

“Yeah?” Dream sounds tired, voice lower in the morning.

How does he even phrase this? “Why do you… What’s your goal?”

“What do you mean?”

George doesn’t quite know how to elaborate, his arms wrapping around his knees again.

Dream sits upright, stopping. “Have you been brooding all night?”

George wants to sound annoyed. He really, really does. “I’m not  _ brooding _ , I’m on nightwatch.”

Dream gives a chuckle. “Yeah, okay.”

“No! You can’t just-”

George sees Dream turn to him, alarmed by his angry tone of voice.

“I asked you a question. Don’t try to joke around this.”

Dream is quiet for a moment, finally finding a comfortable position to sit in and leaning against a tree as well.

“Well,” he sounds like he’s contemplating his words, “what did you mean by goal?”

“I know you… do all this for some reason. The reason you don’t mind teaming with us, and the reason you don’t like illumina, and you saved Bad, and the reason you crossed the king.”

George watches Dream stiffen a little at that last part. 

“You steal from nobles because you think they don’t deserve it. You kill people because you think that’s how the world works.”

Dream’s voice drops a little, sending a shiver through George. “Because it is.”

“Th-that’s not my point. You… do you not mind being no better than who you’re trying to fight? How do you… justify all this?”

Dream looks at him, quiet again. Sapnap and Bad are still firmly asleep, exhausted from their recent travels. George is, too. He can feel a soreness in his limbs, and his head feels heavy.

Dream’s voice is soft, softer than he thought it would be. “Why do you… want to know?”

George gives a sigh. He’s too tired to lie, to save face. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m missing something.” He closes his eyes. “I feel like you have a reason. I get killing nobles, I actually do. Guards too, fine. Clan members, sure. I don’t approve of it, but I  _ get _ it.” 

George rubs over his eyes. “But normal people that fight you? That defend themselves? Civilians? What did they do to you? You think they all love their roles and serving the king? How do you justify taking lives like your own?”

Dream looks away into the forest quietly. For a moment, George thinks he won’t answer, but then Dream slowly gets up and walks towards him.

George feels his heart lurch a bit on habit, but he’s both too tired to move and calmed by the presence of his friends. Somehow, all Dream does is sit down close enough that he can lower his voice.

“George.” Dream’s voice is low, and the morning effect really isn’t helping.

George gulps, fire running through his body. “Yes?”

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

Hot and cold rush through him. 

Dream leans in a little further. “If I’m honest, I don’t think you have.”

George stares back at the eerie mask, suppressing a shiver, trying to keep his voice steady. “S-so what, it’s for the thrill of it? Just… fun?”

Dream hums, pulling back to sit upright. “It’s… a feeling. A blaze of glory. Solidified strength.”

“So to feel confident.”

“In a way.”

“And that’s it?”

Dream is quiet for a moment. 

“I don’t have a reason that would sufficiently justify my actions, no. But if it’s worth something… I’m honored that you’re so sure I do.”

“I don’t know, you’re just like… not the kind of person to do stuff without thinking about it.”

George can hear the bit of amusal in Dream’s huff, lowering his head to stare at the ground.

“You just do it.”

Dream shrugs. “I guess.”

They’re quiet, George’s sleep deprived brain trying to think through the morning mist.

“It’s just always been that way?”

Dream shrugs again. “No, but it’s what it’s come to.”

George can hear the question leave his mouth before even thinking about it. “What did it used to be like?”

Dream doesn’t answer.


	8. Chapter 8

The morning passes slowly as the others wake up and they begin to move again. Sapnap leans on George for support, limping as fast as he can while Bad tells him to slow down.

Bad and George exchange worried looks when examining his wound again, but it’s nothing truly surprising.

It’s infected.

\---

It was only a matter of time, really.

In the faint light of dusk, Sapnap spots a flash of movement, gripping into George’s supporting shoulder hard upon the sight. He wordlessly gestures towards where he saw something, watching the group lower their stances and carefully draw their weapons.

George already has an arrow in his bow, carefully scanning the treelines. They’ve stopped.

Dream gives George a light shove, nodding to Bad with his head, and they begin to spread out.

Sapnap has drawn his axe, leaning against a tree for support. Bad nervously moves away from him, casting glances back.

George looks back, and realizes that Dream is gone. 

He keeps moving away, squinting amidst the trees, but paying close attention to what’s behind him like a cat with its ears flicked back.

Within a split second, an arrow fires towards Bad, and a shadowy figure dives out from the undergrowth.

Just a moment before the attacker can reach Sapnap, seemingly left almost defenseless, Dream emerges out from the cover of a tree to block the sword swing expertly.

Sapnap turns his head, watching Bad leaning against a tree with an arrow poking out of his shoulder, George at his side.

When did they begin to rely on Dream this much?

For the first time, Sapnap really gets to see Dream fight, with nothing else to do or think of. 

Dream fights like some kind of demon, slash upon slash in rapid succession, giving his enemy not a moment to breathe or plan their escape. In a moment of overwhelming his enemy, he fakes another stab, causing them to shift their weight. He lunges forward again and embeds his reflective blade deep into their shoulder between the blades of the armor before kicking their leg out from under them.

He pulls the sword out as they stumble back, bright red blood flowing down the sky blue blade, throwing rainbow colored specks of light over the darkened forest. 

Sapnap continues to watch, having long lowered his axe. Dream easily kicks his attacker in the chest, causing them to fall onto their stabbed shoulder and scream out into the silent forest in pain.

He steps onto their chest, holding them firm in place, letting his sword hang down in a fluid motion. He looks victorious, standing over the body, back straight and confidently throwing a look back. The attacker was a scout, having fallen right into their plan to try and take out Sapnap while the others were distracted. 

Sapnap finally snaps out of his trance, blinking, meeting Dream’s gaze before looking over to see George already beginning to bandage Bad’s chest. There’s not much more they can do to help. George is working quickly, trying to use the last of the daylight.

“Dream? I have a genuine question.”

Dream turns to him quizzically.

“Do you- are you- are you sure you’re human?”

Dream lets out a light laugh, amused. “Pretty sure, but I’ve had people tell me they think otherwise.”

George groans. “Don’t stroke his ego any further, Sapnap, it’s big enough as it is.”

But Sapnap is far too deep in now to begin retreat, the fire eating away at his senses. He’s held it back for so long, tried to be responsible for so long, sacrificed his all for everyone else for  _ so long _ . He’s felt so weak these past few days, helpless and realizing how quick it all could end for him. 

“Who- who taught you how to fight?”

“Nobody. Well,” Dream pauses to cast another glance down to his victim, “I did myself.”

“Sapnap,” George warns.

Sapnap ignores him. “Completely?”

Dream shrugs, looking back up, voice more serious. “Yeah. I watched a lot of other people fight, though, and studied it from books.”

Sapnap’s voice is just all the more excited with every word. “What books? From Dona?”   
  


Dream grins at him, though they can’t see underneath the mask. His voice is half a tease. “What, you wanna learn how to fight like me?”

The fire in his chest is threatening to eat him alive, aching in his soul at being held back for so long. 

“Yes.”   
  


“Sapnap!” George stops bandaging again in shock, giving his friend a scolding glance. “What are you talking about! No, you don’t!”

Sapnaps eyes are wide and alight like a bonfire, fixed on the mask like nothing else has ever mattered more. “Teach me.”

George just stares at him with his mouth agape.

Bad tries to cut in, voice still weak from the pain. “Sapnap, what- is that, is that really a good idea?”   
  


He’s had it. He’s had it with running and he’s had it with watching someone else live out his fantasies.

His voice comes out half a laugh. “I- I don’t  _ care! _ ” He stumbles over the laugh bubbling out of his throat. “I want to fight like you. You fight like some- like some kind of fucking demon! I can be better. I know I can be better.”

Dream dips his head lightly to the side. A silence hangs over them while George hurriedly tries to focus on finishing bandaging up his friend. Sapnap stares at Dream with the flames of emotion licking at his insides.

Dream sounds surprisingly serious. “You’re a good fighter, Sapnap.”

Sapnap hangs onto his every word, heart beating in his throat, impatiently waiting for him to continue.

“But you know we’re on opposite sides as it is, don’t you?”

He knows. Of course he knows. He hadn’t thought this far, but now it’s late.

“I…” He exhales carefully, voice low and steady. “I want. To fight like you.” He pushes the words out of his mouth, refusing to think of the implications. “More than anything else.”

Dream just regards him, head still tipped to the side. Thinking.

George slowly stands up. Bad continues to sit with a fully bandaged chest, anxiously watching the three of them.

“Sapnap. What the fuck are you talking about.”

Sapnap finally loses his patience, well aware of what comes next. “What do you mean what am I talking about!”

“What do I mean-! You idiot, you think he’s just gonna train a guard for fun!? Dream is a murderer and you know that!”

Sapnap stares at his friend for a long moment. “What would you know about that.”

“What?”

“What would YOU know about ANYTHING! You can’t even IMAGINE what it’s like to actually have to fight for your life! You’re just here because you feel like it, while we’re all here because we actually HAVE to be! You’re just here because you’re fucking bored, George, because watching people die from inside your MANSION wasn’t FUN ENOUGH!”

Sapnap’s shout echoes out into the forest. The air between them crackles like electricity, George standing taken aback. 

“H-how is that relevant! I’m here because I wanted to do something good! You can’t just- say that to distract from the fact that you want to side with Dream!”

Sapnap’s fuse is long lit, flames already reaching into the sky. “I can say whatever I want! You have NO IDEA what it’s like to be forced to do ANYTHING! You,” Sapnap steps forward to point a finger into George’s chest, voice suddenly low, “are the reason people like Dream have to exist in the first place.”

George stares at him. He blinks. His mouth is open to respond, but his tongue isn’t obeying him, and neither are any of his limbs. He watches as Sapnap limps back the step he took, air still knocked clean out of his lungs.

Sapnap leans against his tree, face pointedly turned away. 

All George can do is stare at him numbly.

Despite not having made himself very popular so far, Dream is the first to begin to move. He stabs the scout underneath him clean through the throat before turning away and beginning to slowly lead them through the forest.

Bad is the one supporting Sapnap this time after another thorough check-up, and George keeps his distance to everyone else.

They travel and wordlessly set up camp as soon as Sapnap’s strength finally gives out. Bad plops down to sit immediately after letting him down, grasping his chest and keeping his breathing shallow.

George casts him a concerned glance, but Bad just shakes his head.

It’s another one of those long, campfire nights.

Especially in their situation, they should know to keep moving as much as they can, but all that survival knowledge slips their minds conveniently as they set up a campfire and sit around it in silence.

They watch the fire crackle, eating two chickens that Dream caught not too long ago. These past few weeks of surviving together has left them with enough silent agreements that they don’t need to say a single word during their entire meal.

Bad is automatically on cooking duty, just like Dream was automatically on hunting and gutting duty. Sapnap and Bad get the better, middle pieces of the meal, and neither of them object.

They’d checked on Sapnap’s wound before the attack and again afterwards as Bad inspected every single stitch made, so there was no need to check again. Despite the anxiety hovering over them, Sapnap seems to shrug off the worries just fine, but his glazed over eyes focused on some distant point betray him. So do the quiet moments where Sapnap would trace the bandages, press a little here and there, helplessly watching the infection eat into him.

They others pretended they didn’t see, getting ready to rest.

The only thing left to do was sleep.

Except they all wordlessly sit in agreement that it’s just One Of Those Nights.

Bad was usually the first one to try and light up the situation, and the other three would occasionally glance over to him as if expecting him to say something.

He stays silent, staring into the fire.

George gives a quiet sigh, afraid that if he does it too loud he would disrupt the tension and cause it to snap.

But he also knows he has to say something eventually.

He shifts in his position, working up his courage to be the first one to speak.

“S-so, um, we only have a few more days before we get to the next settlement. I can contact my sister from the closest tavern, I’m sure. They won’t fight us in broad daylight, I think. We’ll be fine.” He tries to put confidence and reassurance into his voice. He really, really does.

Bad lifts his head only a little bit, voice raw and vulnerable. “You’re always going to be fine, George.”

George bites his lip to ignore the feeling of being stabbed through the chest, lowering his head again.

The silence stretches on.

George gulps. “I’m- I’m sorry.”   
  


Bad looks up, face soft. “I know. It’s not your fault, I mean… It’s fine.”

George gives a stressed sigh. “It’s not, Bad. I know it’s not. Nothing about this is fine.”

“Well,” Bad starts carefully, “it all depends a bit on how much they’ll be willing to take for all this. We’re not… I mean, we’re your friends, but, you know…”

“I know, I know. I’ll try to convince them. I’ll do everything I can, I promise.”

Sapnap speaks up, sounding sharp. “What if that doesn’t work, George?”

Bad gives him a look, but Sapnap ignores it.

“Sapnap, I…” George looks him straight in the face, unsure, lost, hurt. He’s never been good at holding a grudge. “I don’t know. I really want it to work. I know that… I know I want you guys to be safe. And I’ll do everything, and if that doesn’t work…” He takes a sharp breath in. “Then we stay together, and figure it out.”

Sapnap doesn’t answer, but George doesn’t miss Bad’s small, encouraging smile.

-

Dream feels like his chest is about to explode.

Like there’s a knife in the middle, slowly being twisted from side to side.

What is he going to do when they’re gone? What is he going to think of when he has to camp alone in the treetops again? Fuck, what is he even going to do in Dona that could compare?

His mind replays Sapnap’s face, his words, over and over again. 

On one hand, he wants to take him under his wing. It would be easy, especially now, with how split they are. In fact, with how difficult Bad’s situation is… he could convince him there’s no other way. He could convince George in silence that he doesn’t have to put up with them, and sweep both Bad and Sapnap away for himself. He could pull the strings and make sure he has two new, loyal followers.

On the other hand, the thought of twisting them for his gain would tear him to pieces.

What other option does he have? Does he really drive the knife into the crack just to split off a bigger piece for himself? Just to not have to be alone anymore, to not let this opportunity slip by? 

Isn’t it sad, that the only way for him to get what he wants is to destroy it?

-

Bad finally takes a deep breath, willingly playing peacekeeper once more. 

“Okay, so what’s the plan? We keep moving till we reach that next village you mentioned, and then?”

George looks up again, relieved to not be alone in his mission. “I’ll tell my sis to come get us as fast as she can, and I’m practically certain that she can at least stall the order until she’s there. And I’ll try to convince her. There’s a good chance she’ll take my dad along, or, I can just ask her to in my letter. Ravenburg isn’t far from here. Three days of travel on horseback, if you really book it.”

“Okay. So you, me, we’re definitely waiting for that. But, um.”

Bad stops, looking to the other two sitting at the campfire.

Sapnap turns to glance at Dream in turn.

Bad looks at the mask, angled down to the ground. “Dream?”

“Mm.”

“What’s... the plan? Your plan?”

He tilts his head up, fixing the position of his mask a bit nervously. He doesn’t know what to say. He hates not knowing what to say.

The others exchange glances. Are they worried? They could be worried for his reaction. That would be a normal worry to have. What about the non normal worries? Isn’t it dumb that he desperately wants to hope they’re worried for him, even if just in the slightest?

“I…” He stares into the fire, chest feeling hollow. “I don’t know,” he admits, throat raw.

What a stupid hope to have. What a ridiculous thing to even want. His hands are occupied with one of his empty waterskins, running his fingertips over the leather.

Sapnap finally breaks his grudge, trying to sound confident. “Well, if you train me. I could go with you.”

Dream turns to look at him. He knows they can’t see, but he closes his eyes behind that mask, and knows he’s never felt weaker in his life.

His voice is soft. “No, Sapnap.”

Sapnap stares at him in disbelief. “Why not?!”

“Because it’s not as cool as you think it is.”

His voice is desperate. “I don’t think it’s- I’m tired of being bound to all this! I want to just do whatever I want, like you!”

“I don’t do whatever I want. I do what I need to survive.”

“You don’t follow any rules. You can go wherever you want, take whatever you want, as long as you can fight off the people defending it.”

Dream’s voice only grows more serious. “You think you’re cold enough to kill anybody who stands in your way? For show? For fame? For money?”

Sapnap stares at him defiantly. “Maybe I do.”

“If they set a bounty on the only healer in miles and miles, who you know is treating an outbreak, could you really follow through?”

His voice hardens. “I could.”

Dream’s voice only grows softer, quieter. “Do you  _ want _ to?”

“I do! I’m not as weak as you think I am!”

“I don’t think you’re weak.”

“Clearly, you do!”

“This isn’t about- Ugh.” 

“What? This isn’t about what? About weakness? Then tell me what it’s about. Tell me.”

Dream goes quiet again.

“TELL ME!” He sounds desperate, rather than angry, and Dream watches with a bit of a sting how he falters, how his hands shake and clutch into fists, how he grits his teeth to stay in control.

He can see the explosive fire in his eyes, sense the sheer energy just waiting to be released. He looks determined. He looks ready, maybe more so than Dream was when he first began to learn. Something about that desperacy, about that kind of emotion, manages to stir the low bristle of sparks in Dream’s own chest. 

The temptation of taming that fire suddenly overrides the soft care from before. His hands twitch.

“Fine. I’ll think about it.”

-

Well, it certainly was interesting watching Dream take the higher moral ground for a bit, even if it didn’t last.

George glances between the two, then to Bad, who just shrugs helplessly. 

George lets out a stressed sigh, hoping Dream would just say no and let them drag Sapnap to safety instead. Let enough time pass that the wisdom of hindsight would let him be rational about all this again.

He sighs, watching the hunched over guard resting one hand on his wound with a care he seldom sees from him. His face is just a little redder than usual, his hands a little shakier than usual.

Something tells him Sapnap won’t pass this up so easily.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOPS I know I'm late a few days ahah,,, hopefully the next chapter will be posted in a week (it's already written and done I just have to remember to do it on time). After chapter 10, the arc will be finished and there will be a lil hiatus while I write arc 2. Stay tuned!

Once Bad and Dream leave the campsite, George turns to Sapnap.

“We need to talk.”

“Bout what?”

George sits down. “You know about what.”

Sapnap just groans, knowing exactly what comes now. One hand comes to shakily rest on his leg again, curled close to him like a wolf guarding a broken paw.

“What were you thinking? You can’t just… do that! You have an infected wound that you won’t survive without the proper potions, you’re red all over so you could run a fever soon, Dream is still dangerous, and we’re about to part ways with him anyway. We’re almost there. We HAVE to get there.”

He just sighs.

“And what about your family? Did you ever stop to think of them? What are they going to do without-”

“I always think about them!”

George stops, watching his friend snap. “I think about them every minute of my day! I did this for them in the first place! I learned how to fight for them! Of course I fucking think about them!”

George sighs. He’s tired of fighting. “So what do you think they’re going to do when you- what do you even plan on doing? Just leaving with Dream? For what?”

Sapnap sounds defeated. “George, I… I’ve thought about them as above everything else for years. I just… I’m tired. I’m tired.”

“We’re all tired.”

“I know, just… I want to do this.”

“But you  _ have _ to think ahead.”

“I am! George, I want to  _ live _ for once! Please!”

“I get it, and I’m not saying you don’t deserve to, I’m just saying that this is going to have consequences and you know it.”

Sapnap just lowers his head.

George goes on. “Besides, we’ve… we’ve always stuck together, you know?”

“I know.”

George doesn’t hide the hurt in his voice. “And now you just want to- to leave?”

“George, I…”

“What.”

“I don’t  _ know _ , okay?”

George rubs over his face tiredly. “Just come with us. You can learn to fight from other people.”

“Not a lot of people are THAT good at fighting. Anybody that much better tends to be in the underworld.”

“I know, but just… why  _ Dream _ ?”

“What’s wrong with him specifically?”

“You used to like, hate him.”

“Well… he’s… not  _ that _ bad.”

“Sapnap. You were the last person to agree with all this, and now you’re backing him up?”

“What do you want me to do, George? Why’s that such a problem? I thought you’d be upset about me going off on my own to do the ‘wrong’ thing, but now you’re just hung up on Dream specifically.”

“I am upset about that! We’ve just been… chasing him for so long! He’s supposed to be our enemy.”

“Supposed to be.”

“Yeah.”

“Is he?”

“What do you mean?”

Sapnap gestures out vaguely in the direction that the other two left in. “Is he our enemy? Really?”

George’s gaze follows Sapnap’s hands, drifting out into the treelines. 

His shoulders falter with a sudden realization.. “We’re only three days travel away from civilization.” His eyes widen a little. “We’re slowed down by your leg. He could’ve been long gone by now.”

Sapnap opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. That’s not quite what he thought of, but it really is just yet another time where Dream seems to… contradict himself.

Sapnap shrugs a little. “We gotta talk to him, but he really doesn’t like talking about himself.”

George squints at his friend. “Don’t think this makes me forget what you’re about to pull, Sapnap. You really wanna go out there and become a bounty hunter? Really?”

Neither of them hear the quiet, almost soundless steps of somebody familiar approaching.

“George, look. It doesn’t matter who does it, somebody will. And-”

“That doesn’t mean it has to be you!”

“Why do I specifically have to suffer just to pretend the world is fine if I do? George, it really doesn’t matter.”

A shadow falling near them alerts them, but they both relax when they see it’s just Dream. And then perk up again when they realize it’s  _ Dream _ .

He sits down near them, but with more distance to them than they have between each other. 

He’s always silently communicated his distance to them in small ways. Conversations where he wouldn’t talk at all. Sitting the furthest from the campfire, and the furthest from them. Curled up just a few inches more to the right when they’re all huddled together.

Sapnap looks up at the expressionless mask, face pulling into one of determination.

“So have you thought about it?”

George tries to cut in. “Sapnap!”

Sapnap ignores him, keeping his eyes focused on Dream.

Dream sighs.

George turns to his friend. “Sapnap, no. You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to put people in danger and you’re going to put yourself in danger.”

Sapnap squints at him. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

George throws his hands up, frustrated. “I can’t! But I can tell you when you’re being stupid!”

“I’m not being stupid!”

The sound of Bad approaching their camp makes the two stop their bickering to look over. He sits down near them with a sigh. He exchanges a look with Dream.

“Yes, you are. We became guards to do the right thing, and-”

“YOU became a guard because you THOUGHT you were doing the right thing!”

Bad tries to speak up. “Guys-”

“You swore an oath just as much as I did! And I know you like to pretend that it really was all just money for you, but I know-”

“The oath doesn’t even mean anything! It’s just a dumb ceremony to brainwash us and fool idiots like YOU!”

Bad gives them both a look, but they ignore him. “Woah. Guys. Come on-”

“BRAINWASH US? What, have you been listening to THIS guy?” George gestures to the mask angrily.

Dream just tilts his head lightly to the side in curiosity.

“What, have you been listening to your DAD, mister daddy issues?”

George gasps sharply, and Bad half gets up to lean between them and get their attention.

“Seriously! Sapnap, apologize. George, you too.”

Before George can say something, Bad cuts in again. “And to Dream, too.”

“Bad!”

“Yeah?”

“Dream is-”

“The reason we’re all still alive! I thought you guys got along by now?”

George eyes Dream from the side, wishing he didn’t feel the guilt twist in his stomach. He hadn’t really meant to go for him. He’d just needed some way to fight Sapnap.

Dream sighs, voice deadpan. “It’s fine.”

The guilt twists further.

Sapnap crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I’m sorry about yelling. Not about what I said, though.”

George gives him a look. “I’m sorry for pulling Dream into this and nothing else.”

Bad just lets out a frustrated groan. “Why are you muffins all so stubborn, oh my gosh!”

Dream lets out a small laugh, causing everyone to look at him again, making him go quiet.

Sapnap uses the quiet to eye him again. “So?”

“Sapnap.”

Sapnap feels the hope rise in his chest. “Yeah?”

Dream leans back calmly. “You need your leg healed before you do anything anyway.”

Sapnap sighs. “Goddammit.”

Dream just shrugs.

George lets out the smallest sigh of relief. “Hokay, so Sapnap, you’re coming with us anyway, because you do need to take care of your leg you know.”

Sapnap deflates a bit, groaning. “Fiiiine! Until my leg is better, and no more.”

Dream gives a small nod. “I won’t follow you into the settlement, but I’ll be… around.” He speaks carefully, the others watching him attentively. “I’ll tell you how many days I can stick around soon. During that time, I’ll double back to the west shore of lake Everescent. Two days or so on foot from Ravenburg.”

George nods, recognizing the name.

“You can come find me during that time. Then... I’ll go my own way.”

A dull silence hangs over them all of a sudden. They all knew it was coming, but in the quiet, the weight of the realization becomes much harder to bear. They’ll part ways. Maybe with Sapnap, too. Not immediately, but in just a few days, they might.

George knows he’ll have to face his parents in a way that will make them less than happy. He might not see Sapnap again after he’s healed, just like that, after years of being friends. And what are they going to do if his parents say no? If they refuse? Surely, they wouldn’t, but the anxiety eats away at him nonetheless.

-

Sapnap shifts a bit in place, shoulders hunched, still processing everything himself.

But soon. Soon he’ll have to make his choice, and an antsy feeling in him urges him to make that choice as soon as possible.

\---

The last few days trickle away like the last rays of sunlight. It takes them a whole day longer, but by nightfall, they see the bright lanterns in the distance, peeking through the trees.

Muffled steps sound through the forest, muffled in the grass. They listen to Sapnap’s rythmic limping, only to suddenly realize one person is missing.

They stop, looking back to see that Dream has fallen behind.

Dream looks at them with a faux calm, hand instinctively grasped around his sword handle. He ignores the looks of the others, and just dips his head.

“Sapnap, if you don’t come find me by the dusk of the third day, I’ll have no choice but to leave. If you come find me during that time, we’ll go.”

“Three days?! I can’t just-!”

Dream cuts him off. “Take your pick.” He sounds like he’s smiling behind the mask in an unspoken challenge. “Maybe you’ll still let the others talk you out of it.”

Sapnap grumbles something, but Dream just turns, his coat flourishing behind him.

Bad and George exchange a glance, but before either of them can call him back for something, anything more than that, he slows, and looks back over his shoulder.

“You’re only annoying cause you lick up to the king, really. Take that as a compliment.”

And with that, he stalks off into the cold evening, leaving the other three standing there with a hollow feeling. 

The cold continues to settle over them, darkness slowly creeping up into the sky. They stand, and stare. Sapnap is the first to move, shifting to lean on Bad a little bit, and they keep moving.

And just like that, there’s only three of them now.

\---

The house of the neighbouring noblefolk welcome George inside, albeit with a bit of confusion. George watches their servant rush around to light the lanterns and help them stash their things away.

He sits at the solid spruce table, feather in hand and ink bottle illuminated by the low light to the side. He turns the quill, watching the reflections. 

Bad sits across from him, unusually quiet as he watches his friend contemplating on what to write. Sapnap is upstairs, sleeping off his first potion.

George was expecting a tavern to take them for money, but word got around surprisingly quickly, and the family of Zenguard knows him too personally to refuse to take them in.

He wishes they could’ve made less of a commotion, but he tells himself it’s just the newly got habit of laying low that he should probably forget again.

Bad is sticking unusually close to George, and he knows they’re lucky the Zenguards aren’t in on the chasing order on his friend yet. He doesn’t know what they would have done otherwise. Probably run and head straight to Ravenburg.

George almost sets the quill down, lets out a frustrated sigh, and lifts it again to reconsider.

“Tired?”

George looks up at Bad, half laying on the table. “Not as much as you, probably.”

Bad shrugs, yawns. “We’re all tired.”

“I didn’t have to carry Sapnap though,” he says absentmindedly, continuing to twirl the feather around.

He’ll have to ask for his sister. And his father. And horses, if they’re to reach Ravenburg quickly to make sure Sapnap can recover fully. It’s only a day on horseback, so the letter should be there by tomorrow morning.

He lets out a deep sigh, and finally starts writing his feeling of failure and his formal plea onto the paper.

\---

The morning is a cold kind of peaceful.

George rolls off the bed, stretching his back. He hadn’t slept on anything as comfortable in months, and yet he feels he literally only just laid down to close his eyes for three minutes.

He shivers, putting on his jacket. The Zenguard offered to lend him something better, and he politely refused.

It feels wrong to wake up in this guest bedroom, with the sun happily greeting him from the window when he’d never felt more alone in his entire life. He never wants to sleep alone ever again. 

He hunches his shoulders. He needs somebody to wake up next to, dammit, even if it’s Sapnap complaining about the weather, or Bad poking uselessly at the fire, or Dream sitting and mysteriously staring up into the sky because he doesn’t have anything better to do.

He heads down, greeted by one of the servants on the way.

Bad is already up, sitting at the kitchen table, staring worriedly at the cracks in the wood.

“Morning.”

He shoots up to look at George, and he immediately knows something is wrong.

“Sapnap is gone.”

George blinks, the feeling of hollowness growing worse. “What?”

“He’s gone, and so is a bag of healing potions.”

\---

He hates this feeling.

He hates sitting there and waiting.

George stretches his back for the millionth time. 

They sent patrols. They sent guards. Nothing.

How Sapnap managed to escape like that with a bad leg, he has no idea. Stupid infection. Stupid charismatic Dream with his stupid challenging voice and his stupidly talented friend that wants adventure so, so badly.

Bad sticks with him through the entire day as they anxiously rest off the silent chase from before. The youngest brother of the Zenguard is in the holiday home, taking them in because he probably doesn’t know any better. He’s already told George that his parents are off on the east side for some regional festival, mostly to apologize for their absence.

George thanks the skies that they’re this lucky and this poor guy doesn’t know quite enough about what he’s doing just yet. He seems likable.

Midday rolls around painfully slowly. So does the afternoon, where the young Zenguard formally apologizes yet again for the simple meal. George just tries to look polite. Bad tries to stand in his shadow and disappear, and George can’t blame him.

As the sky outside slowly begins to grow dark, George begins to get a bit restless. He specifically insisted they send the letter overnight. Did they not get it? Are they going to get a letter back to tell him to ride to Ravenburg on his own? Are they away without having told him?

As the sun is half over the horizon, he begins to pace around from side to side. Bad watches him. The young Zenguard disappears into his room, sensing the tension about to snap.

The servant brings him and Bad some tea, and George waves him off. Bad watches the gesture, but doesn’t comment, eyes moving to watch the servant dip respectfully and then disappear into the small servant quarters.

As the last rays of the sun fade from the horizon, the sound of galloping hooves finally fills the air.

George heads outside quickly, sword already at his side and shield hung over his back, motioning for Bad to stay inside.

The cold air hits him as he steps outside, watching  _ five _ armored horses - that’s a little worrying - skid to a halt before the spruce home. He glances up. His father, his mother, and two of the Ravenburg guards. One horse is unmanned, but proudly wears the Ravenburg banner. He squints and spots the dark patches on the white underneath. It’s his. Of course it is.

The servant rushes to bring the horses into their stables as his family steps onto the mud. 

His father meets eyes with him immediately. 

George gulps.

Shit.

\--

The Zenguard disappearing into his own room shortly before their arrival was a damn good idea.

George sits, head in his hands, eternally thankful that Bad was smart enough to disappear into his own temporary room as well. And he listens.

His mother sits across from him, trying to catch his gaze. “We should have known this was an awful idea.”

His father paces restlessly up and down the room. He hasn’t said a single word so far.

George sighs. “Listen, I get it, I messed up.”

His mother sighs as well. “Yes, and it’ll be quite some work to bend this right.” She clears her throat a little, glancing to his father, continuing to pace about. “We, decided, that you should take some time off your… guard duty, and take a break for a while.” George tries to cut in, but she goes on. “We’ll have everything necessary arranged, don’t worry about that.”

He closes his mouth again, anxiously listening to the iron boots rhythmically hammer on the poor wood floor. Otherwise it’s quiet. The lecture is over.

He clears his throat, pulling himself to sit upright. 

“I have… I know it’s a bad time, but I have a very, very important… request to make.”

His father glances at him, and stops. His voice is low. “And what could that possibly be, young man?”

His throat goes dry. He forgot how confrontational all this was. How little power he really felt he had no matter what everybody else tried to tell him. He thought he’d return stronger, but he feels smaller and more insignificant than ever.

“Well. I have a friend, um, I’m sure you’ve heard-”

His father cuts him off. “We’ve heard you have quite a few friends.”

His mother clears her throat again, and his father goes back to pacing.

She tries to smile. “We heard of the… incident. Like I said, there’s some diplomatic fixing to be done, but you’ll have plenty of time for that.”

“No, you don’t understand, I- It’s more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

He stutters. “He’s- Darryl. The king - ” his father stops to look at him directly, the air suddenly frozen solid - “He’s my friend. He’s- the king is wrong about him! There has to be something we can do, we-”

His father squints at him. “George.”

George goes quiet.

“You have no reason and no desire to associate with his ilk.”

“N-no, he’s not like that, he’s been a guard for- for...” Breathing is difficult. His face is growing hot in embarrassment, feeling like a child trying to justify a trivial mistake. It’s so quiet. They’re staring.

He buries his head back in his hands, an immense feeling of shame crashing over his head like a tidal wave. What was he thinking? That they’d take him seriously? That they’d listen to him over what they’ve always believed in? That he’d grown a single freckle of confidence in their absence?

Slow steps sound from the staircase, causing them all to turn. It’s the Zenguard, politely entering the room filled to the brim with electric tension.

“My apologies, Lord of Ravenburg,” he starts, shifting nervously. 

George stares at him with wide eyes, shaking his head ever so lightly, but the sense of hospitality has been replaced with fear.

“But there’s a second guest here that your son requested be taken in.”

Forget likable. George  _ almost _ wishes Dream and Sapnap would show up, healed, armed and ready to fuck up the place.

His father’s tone shifts to impossibly calm and polite when turned to the Zenguard. “Who?”

Screw him. Screw him for being horrible to George and literally nobody else ever. Screw this for being so awful and him for being such a coward. What good is being able to fight if he can never use it? If it all ends up the same?

The Zenguard shifts again. “Er, this holiday stay isn’t awfully guarded, and I’d rather not meet resistance with my only two servants, sir-”

Before he can finish, his father points the two guards upstairs.

George buries his face in his hands again. Fuck.

Bad looks terrified with every right.

George looks at him, eyes wide and hopefully communicating every single inch of his regret. His brain is working, trying to find a way.

He can’t fight them, even with Bad. They won’t be able to get away effectively this close to his home, with his parents this angry at him. Sapnap is somewhere off in the woods looking for Dream and-

Dream. It’s the evening of the first day.

They’d probably ride out right now, or tomorrow morning at latest. On horseback.

George shakily gets up, knows that now he has to do everything in his power to save his friend. To get them both out of the mess he caused himself.

His father turns to him again. “George.”

“Yes?”

“You brought him here to make sure we could hand him over, did you not?”

He knows that tone in his father’s voice. He hates it. He knows damn well why he brought Bad, and even Bad didn’t miss the implication.

He gulps the burning feeling in his chest down, and turns to Bad. He pulls his face together. Bad glances between the other people in the room, then down to one of his shortswords, still sheathed away. He could probably stab one of the guards before they take him down again.

George presses his lips together in concentration, shaking his head ever so lightly.  _ Please just trust me. _

Bad blinks. Lowers his head a little. He looks unsure, and then nods.

George takes a deep breath in, ignoring the twisting feeling in his gut.

“I-I…”

His mother stands up abruptly, throwing her husband a disapproving glance. “Can we not? Let’s just head home. He knows what he did wrong.”

George sighs in relief, although he knows the battle isn’t won yet.


	10. Chapter 10

To George’s relief, they ride out immediately.

The cold night air feels constricting on his skin somehow, his horse trotting after his parents dutifully. It feels hard to breathe. Every time he glances over to see Bad, shackled and half bound to the horse, he feels a bit of bile rise up in his throat. He feels his hands start to shake. He feels powerless.

The ride goes on in tense silence, and George keeps his head low and posture correct. 

  
  
  


A few hours into the night, one guard splits off with Bad. He hears his father order him to be brought into one of the nearby villages that holds Ravenburg’s holding tower. In the dark of the night, he mouths to Bad  _ Trust me _ . Bad just pulls his shoulders up, not left with much of a choice.

  
  
  


The expected sense of familiarity, nostalgia, or some semblance of warmth from his family home is absent.

The carved, cold stone walls look duller, older and more hostile than they do in his memories. The grass looks tired from all the trimming and fixing. The mansion sits like a mother widow over it’s eggs, low and protective, the sloping, steep walls her web, collecting the morning dew.

He’s quiet when they unsaddle their horses, the morning sun only just beginning to peak over the horizon. The dawn of the second day, and he’s absolutely exhausted.

Despite his mother correcting his posture there and telling him to wear something different here, he knows they’re just as tired as he is, and he just nods along to whatever they want.

He changes clothes. He gulps down his impatience and drinks one of their healing potions, thick and tasteless on his tongue. Feels it’s effects pulling him deep into unconsciousness. He needs to rest. He can’t do this if he doesn’t rest.

He slumps down onto his bed, in his room, looking out of his window, and falls asleep almost immediately.

  
  


He wakes up with a bit of a start.

Energy slowly begins to fill his limbs, and he stretches, the feeling of the clean white shirt not something he’s used to anymore. The sun has already set, leaving the world outside shrouded in a ghostly mist. The evening of the second day.

He forces himself to stand up and light one of the lanterns, the feeling foreign until he remembers with a sense of confusion that he’d never lit his own lanterns before. He’d usually call someone to his room.

He places the burnt match down onto the table, looking out into the almost monochrome world outside.

He steps to the window, gently pulling the curtain aside a bit more to look out into the landscape he knows so well. His fingertips touch the glass. It’s cold.

He has to make a plan, somehow, or rather, refine the one he already has. His breath gathers on the cold glass, and he shivers a little.

_ You’re calculating. You don’t really care about people. _

He doesn’t remember who said that to him. Ironic, isn’t it? That he remembers the phrase so well, but has no idea what face looked at him when he heard it. Not someone from his family. Someone he probably thought insignificant at the time.

Calculating. He has to make a plan. He has to get Bad out of there, and his only hopes are his best friend, hellbent on running away from his old life, and... Dream. He doesn’t know what to call him anymore. He’s not just a criminal, or just a runaway, or just an acquaintance. He’s just… Dream.

He’s somewhere out there, and maybe Sapnap already caught up to him and George’s attempt will be futile. Maybe they’re already long gone by now, and he’ll be left alone with nothing he can do.

He sighs. They’re out there, deciding what to do next, where to go, training to be even stronger. To think he saw himself as so close to them, when he feels so weak, feels more shackled than ever, like a porcelain rose that has no place out in the cold world.

Here, standing alone in the cold room with no company but the lonely lantern, he wants to be with them more than ever.

His room misses the warmth and hospitality and comfort it once had. He wants to hear them talk, or bicker, or snore, or anything. Even if they’re going to go a path he probably couldn’t keep up with anyway.

And maybe that’s what it is, isn’t it? Maybe that’s why he’s always wanted to understand Dream so well. Because he has what George doesn’t, a kind of freedom, a kind of confidence. 

Because he’s the successful runaway, and George is the unsuccessful runaway.

He stands on his tiptoes and leans in closer to the glass to look at the windows below. The lanterns in the hallway are lit, and so is the kitchen. Nobody has come up to bother him yet, and he ignores his hungry stomach. He has to wait for them all to go to bed so he can get Bad’s things from the basement.

His mother mentioned in passing that his sister is off on a diplomatic visit to the south, but should be back by the day after tomorrow.

He’d like to see her again, of course, but if everything goes as planned, he probably won’t.

Maybe that’s for the best.

His mind drifts, seemingly out the window and into the evening fog.

A distant, familiar voice in his head tells him how things could be if he would just listen. If he would just play it low, apologize, sit in his room and cower out all the drama until it’s gone and everything is okay again. It urges him to imagine the now dull home with the harsh edges of reality as the technicolored fantasy castle of his childhood. 

Here, in the quiet, alone, he entertains the thought for a moment. 

He knows that outcome is one he could never put his heart into. 

\---

His heart hammers in his chest.

A bag with two clattering diamond weapons and supplies clutched to his chest, his shield swung over his back and sword sheathed away, he stands in the hallway, just behind a corner, breathing quietly.

The footsteps fade. He moves.

His steps sound too loud on the dark oak hallways, ring too loudly on the cold stone floor of the basement. He stops at seemingly every corner. But this is what he’s good at. Hiding, and cowering. 

His pulse hammers in his skull. This is insane.

He watches the flicker of the lanterns in the hallways, chest aching in that familiar sense. He thought he’d miss them.

But he’s aching for anything but these walls. 

Aching for the outside.

Aching for freedom.

He steps quickly towards one of the back doors, praying to every deity he knows that nobody will spot him. His parents are asleep somewhere upstairs. If somebody wakes them, it’s all over.

He stops and freezes, ducking behind a corner.

The guard stops to look, and then passes.

He breathes out in relief.

Eyeing the last stretch ahead to the back door, he waits for the footsteps to fade.

Now or never.

He runs.

The old oak door swings open easily, and he shuts it behind him. The cold air hits his face. Wind whips through the cold night air, refreshing his senses, making him stop to breathe it in deep.

Almost.

He begins to round the house, soft and pale fingertips guided by the rough stone foundation of the mansion. He tells himself he’s only running over it because he needs it in the dark.

He reaches the abandoned stables and grabs a torch from the wall.

The fire flickers dangerously over the wood walls as if to show him he’s stepping into his demise. Like in the door to hell, reds and oranges spread over it all, but they all look the same to him.

The horses sniff the air nervously as he quickly steps deeper inside. His eyes scan the walls.

There.

His horse, Mayflower, huffs contently into his palm, knowing he probably wants to go somewhere. He unlocks the shutter.

As Mayflower wants to head outside of the stables as usual, he stops her, grabbing the reins just enough to make her hesitate for long enough to block her path. She stops, looks at him, confused, but he only prasingly pats her neck.

He saddles her inside the stables, occasionally calming her down because of the slight change in routine. He fastens the straps. Last time he lived here, he needed someone else to do that for him.

Giving her another pat, he takes a deep breath, and pulls himself into the saddle.

Mayflower stirs nervously, and George ignores the other horses flicking their ears back and forth in curiosity. 

He makes sure the bag is attached well while the horse tip taps in place a bit. He secures his feet and suspiciously eyes the wide arch exit.

He takes a deep breath, apologizes to her in advance, and spurs her forward  _ hard _ .

He ducks deep as Mayflower takes off as if she’s galloping for her life, his head just narrowly missing the top. 

The night air hits him again.

He speeds towards the exit gates, too fast for anybody to saddle a horse, maybe even too quick for someone to recognize him from the windows in the darkness. The wind cuts over him as the stone walls blur past, and before anybody can dare to stop him, he’s out the gates.

He spurrs her on further as she gallops as if chased by a living demon, hooves loud and solid on the dust.

He breathes in the icy air, eyes set forward as he thunders over the path.

He sees his course set, and looks up.

Freedom.

Right here, doing the worst thing his parents could possibly imagine, ignoring every single thing he’s learned, he’s never felt more weightless.

A laugh bubbles out of his throat as the mansion behind him grows smaller and smaller. He stretches his arms out, trusting Mayflower to know to follow the path. He’s free. He’s more free than he’s ever been in his life.

He breathes in the night air, letting it swirl deep into his soul. 

For once, he feels, he knows exactly where he’s going and why.

He grabs the reins again. 

  
  
  
  


The forest slows him down significantly, but he continues to push on. The stars and his bag of stolen things are the only things to accompany him.

The trees begin to thin out again, and he once more spurs her on to go faster, galloping over the dense grass. Almost.

Past another sloping hill, the silver surface of lake Everescent greets him, moonlight glittering over the small waves. He slows down a bit.

He gives himself a brief second to admire the surreal beauty of the glowing surface before looking on. He spots an ever so faint spiral of smoke in the black night sky, blotting out a handful of stars.

He eases back into a gallop.

-

Dream stares at the bright silver surface, mesmerized by the gentle glow. Everescent, like luminescence, like forever. The moon tiredly watches his thoughts drift out into the landscape.

The dull sound of hooves tears him out of his trance, head snapping to the direction it came from. He darts for Sapnap, waking him up with a harsh shove. He fumbles with his axe, and Dream barely has time to grab his sword before he sees what he heard.

A single horse rides over the green hills along the lake edge through the darkness. Is that…?

He freezes, mouth slightly agape when the horse buckles just moments before their camp. George is illuminated from the moon on one side and the glow of the lake from the other. Dream catches himself frozen for a moment.  _ He looks like some kind of angel. _

The horse thuds to a stop, and George swings himself down. Sapnap is up, staring with what Dream sees is just as much shock and awe as him.

George heaves, quickly clutching the bag again, shaky on his feet. He holds onto his horse as he looks at the two, eyes wide and filled with determination.

“Bad, he- I couldn’t- He’s in Gardenville, in the holding tower. We have to get him, I have his swords, and  _ my _ sword, and- and arrows-”

Sapnap moves next to him, limping only lightly, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady his friend.

“Breathe, George. Breathe.”

Dream is already looking out to the dark horizon. “That’s north from here, right?”

George nods hastily. “We can make it there by dawn on horseback.”

Dream looks to the horse in question, saddled and carpeted with the symbol of Ravenburg.

Sapnap is already gathering up their things while Dream’s mind turns its gears. Holding tower. Usually heavily guarded, especially with a decently sized land like Ravenburg. It’s not the biggest, but certainly not the smallest. 

If they’re planning on killing Bad, it’s insanely important to get there before dawn. The night is one third over, but the horse looks tired…

“Dream?”

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by Sapnap, turning to him. “Yeah?”

“You’re… we’re going, right?”

“What? Oh.” He tries to bring some humor into his voice. “Of  _ course _ , we’re going to free someone from noble-prison. You think I  _ wouldn’t _ go?”

Sapnap lets out a nervous laugh, the air still tense.

Dream sighs, and grows serious again. “George.”

“Yeah?”

“We need to know everything we can about that tower.”

“Yeah, yeah… I’ll tell you everything I know on the way. I’m good at riding and talking.”

He nods. “Okay.”

They saddle on, George at the front, Sapnap behind. Dream hesitates, looking up.

Sapnap gives him a look, grinning. “What, never been on a horse before?”

“Of course I have. It’s just, uh, been a while.”

Sapnap reaches a hand down, and Dream eyes the height of the horse carefully before grabbing it and pulling himself up.

He gets in correctly, even though a bit clumsily.

Sapnap gives him a playful shove, causing Dream to unnecessarily cling to the saddle tighter.

“No way, there’s something you’re _ not _ a glorious legend at?”

He loosens up again. “I could be. Don’t give me ideas.”

“Yeah right.”

George is quiet, still processing everything, still thinking. He blinks himself out of his thoughts.

“It’s the night of the second day, but you’re already together. Why hadn’t you left yet?”

Dream shrugs. “I found Sapnap in the woods pretty quickly, but I think you noticed that much.”   
  


Sapnap huffs in feigned offense. “Hey, I could’ve made it to the lake on my own if I wanted to!”

Dream grins. “Yeah, as zombie bait, maybe.”

“You wish.”

“Anyway, I picked him up in the woods, but I wanted to give him the same amount of time he would have had to make his decision.”

George nods, hoping Dream can see it from where he is. He steers Mayflower to turn back to the direction they have to go in.

Mayflower takes off into the night again, slower this time, but steadily carrying them to where they need to be.

He just hopes they won’t be too late.

\---

A few narrowly dodged skeleton shots and distantly spotted zombies later, Mayflower tiredly trots towards the outer rim of Gardenville.

George stops her just as they’re behind a hill for cover.

The village lays dead quiet in the night, the tower looming eerily above.

As they get off and gather their supplies, Dream and Sapnap watch with some surprise as George hands them both a thick bundle of arrows. He reaches into the bag again, past the two diamond blades, and gets out what he’s been dying to show them.

“I have a useful thing we’ll need.”

Dream and Sapnap look up from stashing their new arrows away.

George pulls out the valuable ammunition, holding it up against the moonlight. A firework.

Sapnap squints at it. “How good is it?”   
  


George bites his lip at the excitement raging in his chest, but he keeps his voice low. “You see that tower? If I get it at just the right spot…”

He lets go of the firework to gesture an explosive motion.

Dream nods. “They’re brutal. I hope you know how to handle one.”

George huffs. “Of course I do.” He grabs the firework again, wrapped in layered paper, warnings scribbled onto every inch of free space. “But I’ll need a crossbow.”

Dream wordlessly hands him his, but refuses George’s bow when he tries to give it to him.

“I like close combat more anyway, and you’re a good shot.”

“Thanks,” George says quickly, ignoring the feeling in his stomach from the compliment. Now’s not the time.

Dream gives him a look from behind the mask, voice inlaid with an unusual tone. “Don’t blow yourself up with it.”

George stands up straighter. “I won’t. I know what I’m doing.”

“Alright.”

\---

The dark night hangs heavily in the air.

The creep closer, step by step, formation natural, tensely staying close to each other. 

This is it.

George has the firework stashed away, crossbow attached to his back.

He grips his shield with white knuckles, almost the color of the moon. The warm light of the lanterns serves little to illuminate him, casting the shadows deep and giving his face something sharp, something harsh.

Dream looks away.

A few guards stand before the tower, living in the disillusion that the lantern-light protects them in the slightest.

They lurk, weapons drawn, muscles tense. Dream watches the tower’s silhouette against the night sky, traces it with his eyes one last time.

And then they charge.

Into the dead quiet, one arrow takes out a guard, the second set on fire and sailing to the wood base of the tower.

Before the second guard can turn to the fire, a diamond sword stabs him clean through the chest.

They’re tensely quiet as Dream places his foot on the body and takes his sword back out, blood flowing down, glittering in the lantern-light.

The fire begins to slowly nibble away at the wood. It wouldn’t take the stone tower down. It was just for show, really. It was George’s idea.

Dream turns to the door when he hears a noise, and sees the other two change their stance, ready to fight.

They give each other a glance, and when the door flies open, they know what they have to do.

They storm inside the tower in a flurry of blades, metal clashing loudly against metal, Dream’s diamond sword throwing ever-pretty, spectral lights of blue color onto the inside walls. People run towards them to fight, and they outmatch them. Clash by clash, stab by stab.

Sapnap stays close to Dream’s side, flanking him. Dream gives George a nod, and he heads outside.

With three more guards down, Dream and Sapnap run further inside.

Pushing past people, dodging swinging swords, following the internal map Dream made from everything George told him.

Chaos is left behind wherever they pass through, people screaming and yelling. They hear someone scream about fire. Someone else is wailing loudly, cradling a dead body Dream vaguely remembers cutting down. He pushes on.

They reach the basement cellar, a lone guard there looking up at them. His eyes are blue, reflecting the light, sword coming up too late to stop Dream from stabbing through him in one swift motion.

He stands, and watches, watches the guard clutch his chest, cough and sputter, and slump down. 

He pulls his blade out.

Sapnap doesn’t say anything.

Sapnap stands guard as Dream opens the cellar door. He tells Bad to turn around, sword swung upwards, ready to strike. Bad is surprisingly calm, he thinks. He takes a deep breath, and smashes through the iron shackles with his diamond sword, scattering pieces of metal chain over the rough stone floor. Bad rolls his shoulders back, gladly accepting his two diamond blades with a thankful nod.

They take the second way out - courtesy to George’s knowledge, again - hearing more people file in behind them. The stone walls of the secret passage are cold and wet, and Bad is trying to keep up with them, hands holding onto the walls of the passageway. 

Dream can see that they’re shaking, even in the dark.

A quick ladder climb later, Sapnap blocks the first attack as Dream pulls Bad up and onto the ground. There’s more yelling, someone from the other side of the tower. People are heading over.

Following Dream’s lead without question, they run after him, chased by stray arrows and flickering torches of angry fire.

On the hill they were hiding on before is George. He’s holding the crossbow, just a dark silhouette against the starry sky, bathed in a faint moonlight and the light of the torchfire.

Dream continues to run, the others close behind him, steadily nearing the hill.

As a stray arrow grazes Bad, causing him to stumble a bit before Sapnap pulls him to his feet and drags him on to keep running, Dream sees George angle the crossbow.

Time seems to slow down for a moment, for just the brief second that Dream can see George aiming the crossbow as if he’s never done anything else in his life. He hesitates, his aim is careful, patient. Something George has that Dream feels he lacks, to have such an impeccable aim: Patience.

One second, they’re running away, angry fire and deadly arrows on their heels, ready to swallow them, and for a moment, Dream imagines that the night beyond that fire, beyond that hill would swallow them as well. That it would make them go underwater like a tidal wave, to be forgotten and never thought of again, or remembered as instigators of chaos and grief. 

For a moment he remembers the feeling in the wilderness, when he was alone, when he felt his story was finally coming to a close, and he was about to lose himself to either the darkness of the night or the wrath of the world that hates him so much.

He looks behind him to see the torches, the drawn blades, the tower lurking in the middle of the landscape like an eldritch horror sending forth its cult-

The next second, the world explodes in brilliant colors.

The explosion is a powerful forcewave of blue and green and red and white, unnatural technicolor fire that bursts out like a force of nature. Dream can feel the forcewave on his back despite their distance, can see people stopping the chase and turning back just as they reach the base of the hill, just as they join George on top.

Dream heaves breaths as the four of them stand together, wordlessly watching the tower give a horrible, rumbled groan akin to thunder, crashing down with a tortured sigh into the bright chaos below.

The last unnatural lights of the firework fade out, the last lanterns are grabbed by the guards and the townspeople, leaving the four of them to stand silently only in the cold light of the moon.

George slowly lowers the crossbow.

Dream watches him from the side. Although the lantern-light is gone, he can see a distant, blazing spark in his eyes.

  
  


[End of arc: The Tower]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAND that was the end of the first arc!!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's stuck with the story so far! I have at MINIMUM another large (or two medium?) arcs planned, with the second arc currently in writing.
> 
> While the first chapter of this story was first posted in December, I will note here that I started writing it many months prior to that. It takes a long time to write both quality and quantity (also real life keeps getting in my way sdlkfj) so I hope you understand the next update will take a while longer!
> 
> Preferably, I would finish the second arc, and only THEN start posting it chapter by chapter while I work on the third.
> 
> Have some notes I made myself while writing:
> 
> *Something something George grabbing the reins of his life metaphor*
> 
> Just listen to this when he rides outside tbh:
> 
> "Free" (feat. Svrcina) // Produced by Tommee Profitt:  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uyxr9qcQHqM&list=PLn9RHgBXrbj4oKeWyIoPx7oCO7HBNGi4p&index=7 
> 
> ALSO I KEEP FORGETTING MOBS EXIST AND WE’RE IN MINECRAFT.
> 
> Me & (probably) the author of Gold&Green both: So I’m gonna implement armor and then it’ll dissapear for unknown reasons cause I keep forgetting about it and by the end of the work it’s irrelevant. I need people to get wounded and bleed dammit! Also I keep imagining everyone in clothes-

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave Kudos!
> 
> Comments of all kinds give me life and recharge my writer battery!


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